Death's Curse
by Magda the Magpie
Summary: Sequel to Death's Gambit: Death sends Hermione to the most dangerous place he can think of. She discovers the muggle world has gone crazy in her absence when she is rescued by a flying toaster.
1. Chapter 1: Bag of Bones

**AN: Sequel of Death's Gambit. If you haven't read that yet, time to go back!**

"Come again, Hawkeye?" the Captain asked when Clint's announcement had been met with static silence over their coms.

"Civilian falling through the portal." Clint repeated. "It's rather urgent. Thor? Tony?"

"I am sorry, Eye of the Hawk! I am smiting enemies in great numbers but even my strong Mjolnir will not bring me there in time to collect the fallen one," came Thor's apology, his voice booming over the intercom like thunder.

"Got it," Tony answered, cutting Thor off before he went off on another one of his poetic tangents, because the man could actually fight and share long winding prose at the same time without so much as breaking a sweat. Being a Norse God didn't allow him to be at two places at the same time however, and it so happened Tony had just finished clearing this area of the alien pest that kept pouring through that blasted portal.

"Jarvis, can you spot him?" he asked while he turned towards Stark Tower where the portal had been opened, his repulsors on at full blast.

A big red X appeared in his line of sight, just a speck of dust from this distance, and one which was lower than he'd like it to be.

"Yes, sir. But her fall is rather erratic. She seems to be slowing down every now and again, although I cannot ascertain how she is breaking her fall."

"Ha! People. No respect for gravity nowadays," he answered, although he was glad for it or he might have arrived too late, and he had no desire to see a soft human body go splat as it met hard concrete at high velocity.

Tony positioned himself and swooped in a dive to catch her, then propelled himself back up, slaloming between aliens and what he was going to call laser beams, because if it looks like a cat and sounds like a cat… Tony lost that train of thought as he made sure they had not been followed before landing on a nearby roof. Now, he could finally ask how the fuck a civilian had fallen through the portal? Were the Chitauri kidnapping people now? Or just tossing them up in the air for shits and giggles? He'd thought alien's fascination with probes were urban legends, but maybe… Then Tony took a look at the person he'd rescued, wondering why she wasn't already gushing over him, because the ladies loved Ironman, after all, and he jerked back.

"Well, fuck," he muttered. "Jarvis what is this thing?"

Because that wasn't a human, or a Chitauri, and it certainly wasn't a "she". Where the hell had Jarvis gotten that idea from? He was an AI, sure, but he'd never had trouble discerning gender usually gave it away. But for all intents and purposes, the thing he'd picked up looked like a very clichéed Grim Reaper, only missing its Scythe, which Tony considered was a good thing. Not that he believed in the Grim Reaper but he rather liked having what was left of his soul attached to his body.

"My readings indicate she is human, sir, but I understand your confusion," Jarvis replied, smooth as ever.

"Hey! I'm not a thing, thank you very much. _You're_ a thing," the thing protested before looking at its own hand, waggling the fine bones before it's eye sockets. The voice was feminine enough, but Tony had to wonder how she could speak without a tongue, vocal cords, or even lungs.

"Damnit," the thing muttered with a sigh before being distracted by a chitauri ship crashing nearby in a fiery explosion that rocked their building. "And what the bloody hell is going on here?"

"Err… Alien invasion? The end of the world and all that?" Tony snarked then shot down one of the small Chitauri carts with one of his repulsors as it flew over them while keeping another on her. "What rock did your crawl out from? Wait! No... don't answer that. I really don't want to know."

He was about to call in the situation and ask what they wanted him to do with her, because babysitting the Grim Reaper had never been one of the Avengers' duties, he was pretty sure of that, when she suddenly moved, her arm extended towards him, pointing a… stick at him while screaming at him to duck, which he did on instinct and not because he was used to obeying bossy women. Tony twisted around just in time to see a dozen limp alien bodies flying through the air and down the side of the rooftop.

"You're not so bad for a bag of bones," he said, getting back on his feet to strike a more dignified pose.

"You've got a big mouth for a robot though," she replied, sounding more thoughtful than spiteful.

"Tony, perimeter breach. One of those… worm things," the Captain interrupted before he could try and figure out if she thought he was really a robot or just pulling his leg. He was Ironman! Seriously, who didn't know Ironman? He was on the front cover of magazines at least once a week.

"Worm-things, Cap? Seriously, that's the best you could come up with? On it." he added as an afterthought, just in case the captain got his spangles in a twist.

He stopped at the edge of the rooftop and glanced at the skeleton standing there with her dark, tattered robes whipping about her in the wind.

"You helping or… you know, watching the world die? Which might just be your thing."

She nodded. To what? He wasn't sure, but she hadn't killed him, had saved his life in fact, probably, so she couldn't be as bad as she looked, and there were a crapload more things trying to kill them right now that were a lot uglier than her and required his immediate attention. He headed towards the giant worm ravaging office buildings a few blocks down and opened the com to warn the others.

"By the way guys, if you see the Grim Reaper, don't shoot. It's a friendly. I think."

"The Grim Reaper?" several of them asked at the same time.

"Yeah, you know? Death personified? Skeleton in a black robe, missing the scythe though, but you'll know when you see her."

"Death is a woman?" Hawkeye asked, sounding dubious.

"Why are you so surprised?" Natacha replied cooly. "Makes perfect sense to me."

"Really? That's what bothers you?" the captain asked and for once, he had a point, although it did make some kind of twisted sense to Tony that Death would walk the Earth went it was in peril.

And _there_ was the worm. Up close, it actually looked like an armoured eel, which wasn't any better because at least worms didn't have teeth, and Jarvis was insisting he didn't have the firepower to take it down after they'd scanned the length of it.

"Banner's here," the captain reported.

"Finally," Tony said, but he'd had faith he'd return. "Tell him to suit up, I'm bringing the party to him."

He shot a salve into the worm-eel's side. Yes, a wormeel. He was quite proud of having coined that word and told Jarvis to copyright it while he flew in between buildings, forcing the wormeel to fly lower and lower until its belly almost grazed the road. He caught sight of the Grim Reaper in a side street, blasting huge fireballs at dozens of Chitauris that had cornered policemen protecting an underground entrance. It was pretty cool, he had to admit, and then lost sight of her again, but was pleased that she was on their side after all. He liked being right, and he liked having a new acquaintance he could throw a ton of puns at.

After the battle had ended and his heart had apparently been rebooted by the Hulk, of all people, they only had the one day before Nick Fury insisted on rounding them up for debriefing. No rest for the brave, or was that the wicked? Only half of them were sporting any sort of injury since the others had super healing abilities, which didn't seem fair.

"Tony, you mentioned a Grim Reaper?" Fury asked once they had gotten the boring stuff out of the way.

He nodded and not wanting to go into boring details and be assaulted by pointless questions, he took out his tablet and sent the feed his armour had recorded from the battle onto Fury's screens with a lazy flick of his finger. The "civilian" Hawkeye had spotted falling from the portal, their discussion on the roof before she'd blasted the wave of Chitauris crashing their little banter time and the glimpse he'd had of her fighting the aliens to protect humans.

"That's all I have, but she's definitely on our side. She kicked Chitauri ass by the dozens," he concluded. "Do you know where she is now?"

"Apprehended," Fury replied.

"You apprehended the Grim Reaper? Death?" Natasha asked, doing her eyebrow thing that meant he'd better be kidding or she would bust his balls.

"She's not Death. It's just some elaborate disguise. And we had to take her in, she was...having a nervous breakdown, as far as we could tell," Fury said and showed his own feed of images: it was taken right after the battle judging by all the alien carcasses lying around and the distinct lack of explosions, and there she was, just standing in a street near a newsstand, then she began shouting at the sky and kicking a nearby Chitauri until its head rolled off.

"Someone needs those anger management sessions more than me," Banner pointed out and Tony laughed at his self deprecatory humour. It never got old.

After which, SHIELD agents seemed to crawl out of the woodwork and asked her to surrender herself. Yeah, bad move, but they had guts all right. However, she ignored them and attacked the new stand instead, setting it on fire and laughing maniacally.

"Maybe she is a villain after all. I've only ever heard villains laugh like that," he joked.

"That sounds like Loki alright," Clint agreed, still grim after what he'd been forced to do.

Fury gave them the evil eye, but the screen was much more interesting: the agents threw nets at her. Ballsy. Fury should give them a pay rise. Then, the screen shut off once it was clear she wasn't even trying to fight off the SHIELD agents.

"Where is it now?" Hawkeye asked.

"Detained until we know more about her. She's still sleeping off the tranquilisers."

"You're going to recruit her for The Avengers Initiative aren't you?" Bruce asked. "I guess I won't be the strangest monster of the group anymore."

"That's debatable, she has a hot bone structure."

"You did not just say that," Natasha growled while he and Bruce sniggered like kids.

"What if she refuses?" the Captain asked. "She didn't do anything wrong, she even helped."

Fury raised his eyebrow which didn't warrant any more explanations. It was a join us or else scenario then. They'd all been through that on some level or other. After that, they hadn't heard of Death again and Fury had made sure he couldn't hack into the SHIELD database. Yet.

ooo

Even if there was no news of the Grim Reaper coming from Fury, the press was going wild with speculation about every one of them who'd fought during what they'd so originally dubbed "The Battle of New-York". Even a generic "Alien Invasion" sounded better. Just how little were journalists being paid nowadays that they weren't even _trying._ So many missed opportunities: Star War I, Gone with the Wormeels, One flew over the Chitauri Nest, E.T. Go Home…

Tony didn't mind the attention, he'd already been out for a while as Ironman, but all the others, bar Thor, hated it, especially Natasha because her cover was completely blown as a spy. Even their new friend from the grave had been included amongst the Avengers, so whether she wanted to or not, in the eye of the public, she was one of them. There were even pictures of her, and accounts from the survivors and emergency response teams she'd saved because she had done a lot of ground work. To be expected since she couldn't fly. Some of the tales about her even Tony had a hard time believing, and he'd seen her gigantic fireballs from hell burning the aliens to a crisp, but it was said she could also turn Chitauri into fish, levitate cars to use as shields and even make the aliens turn on each other. Needless to say SHIELD was interested in her, poor thing.

All too soon, the hero-worship died down and people started demanding answers and wanted to make them accountable for the destruction the aliens had caused, or them sometimes, he had to admit. Honestly, given the large scale invasion, the damage had been rather confined, but Fury still insisted each of the Avenger do their part to help the City of New York rebuilt itself. Which meant Tony threw money at everyone because he refused to use the Ironman as a bulldozer, it was completely undignified; Captain America used his muscles with the rebuilding crews which attracted more gawkers and screaming fangirls than people actually coming to help; Hawkeye helped entertain the kids whose schools were destroyed and from the Youtube videos he'd seen, he was a great hit with the little monsters; the Black Widow had been pulled into giving women self-defense lessons as a way to cope with the traumatism and feeling of helplessness; as for the Hulk, everyone seemed glad he was not about because he was good at smashing which was not a skill in high demand right now. But he did have his fans though, Bruce could hardly believe it and said they I were probably just mad. There were also rumours of the Grim, as everyone called her already, participating in the rebuilding of the city, but nobody understood how she did it and she had a tendency to disappear as soon as there was anyone about. So people who came to salvage what they could from the ruins of their home were surprised to find it as if nothing had happened. Cleaner, if anything. Road crews who'd been sent to resurface a street found it already as flat as it could be and towing trucks supposed to collect totalled cars found them brand new. Even the old models. She was trending on twitter with the hashtag #SantaGrim. Tony was jealous, but he also took her furtiveness as a challenge.

So he was quite smug when Jarvis informed him of another sighting. Tony had tasked him with keeping an eye on the social media feeds for any mention of the Grim's location. It was the fastest way to find anyone today. The Instagram selfie of a bearded hipster with the Grim lurking in the back was geotagged and it was close enough that he might be able to catch her before she vanished again.

"Why, hello there, sweetheart," he said as he landed next to her. "Did you miss me?"

The Grim startled. Tony had officially scared Death. This was going in his obituary.

"Mr Toaster," she said and that was not on. "How did you find me?"

"A little bird told me," he said and flipped his faceplate up. "Hi, I'm Tony. We weren't properly introduced last time."

"So there really is someone inside," she said, ignoring his offered hand and trying to look down his neck to see the rest of his body. "I thought Fury was pulling my leg."

"I'm surprised he let you out. Have you officially joined the Avengers then?"

"I didn't have much of a choice," she muttered. "I owe Fury a favour. He drives a hard bargain."

"Really? _You_ owe _him_ a favour?" Tony asked, his attention perked. What could Fury possibly hold over Death personified? Did he really have dirt on everyone? Scary.

"Long story."

"I'm not busy."

"No? I thought we were supposed to clean up 'our' mess?" she asked and waved her stick at a collapsed wall which proceeded to crawl back up in orderly fashion and glue itself back together again, like new.

Tony tried not to look too impressed but he just had to poke the wall to verify its solidity. It was… normal. Nor he nor Jarvis could detect anything special about the new wall. It was just a wall.

"I'm glad someone else thinks we should have let the aliens eat those ungrateful bastards," Tony deadpanned and was rewarded with… giggles. He'd been expecting a sepulchral laugh so this was a bit of a letdown, not to mention ridiculous.

"Thanks. I needed that," she said and made as if to wipe tears of laughter from her empty eye sockets which was just as weird as the giggles. She made no sense and he hated that.

"So, do I call you the Grim or do you have a real name?"

"The Grim," she snorted. "It's almost as bad as the Hulk. You're Ironman, right?"

He nodded.

"Tony Stark," he said with no sign of recognition from her, which was refreshing.

"Hermione," she offered and did shake his hand this time. "Fury didn't tell me much about the other Avengers, so I've been reading the press but most of it sounds like a load of dragondung."

She grimaced. Not a fan of the press then. Another point for the Grim Reaper!

"I can correct that!" he said cheerfully. "I'm throwing you a welcome party tonight at Stark Tower so you can meet everyone. Except Thor. He's busy kinging his kingdom, or whatever it is Asgardians do. But it'll be fun. Fury will hate it, so you have to come."

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea."

"Of course it is, it's mine. My idea are always great. I'm famous for them."

"No, you don't understand-"

"Nine sharp, don't be late!"

And he sped off before she could protest again. She'd be there. She was a bit of a pushover despite her appearance.

ooo

Captain America had come! To a party! To _his_ party! This was surely another event to celebrate, or the only thing to celebrate because it was ten to nine and his Grim Reaper had still not arrived. Just getting in the building and up all the way to his loft, you'd have to count ten minutes, but maybe she didn't know that, sohe was going to be late. He was a bit disappointed. He'd always figured Death would be the punctual sort.

"Are you sure she's coming? Did you _actually_ invite her?" Natasha asked and he nodded. "Did you wait for her answer?"

"Oh, come on. Who wouldn't want to come party with us? We're awesome!"

"For a start, no one except you has ever spoken to her. I bet you frightened her off."

While they bickered, Clint and Rogers started a match of beer pong. A pointless game since the first never missed and the second never got drunk. It was almost nine when he checked the time again. Natasha was looking at him smugly, waiting for him to admit she was right, when suddenly, the Grim _was_ there. One moment she wasn't, and then she just was, standing behind the couch just behind Rogers who jumped back and knocked over the beer and table.

"Holy mother of fuck," Clint said with a whistle.

"Oh, hello. I'm not late am I?" she asked, turning to Tony. "You did say nine sharp, right?"

"I did. In fact, you're scarily right on time. And you were doubting me," he said to Natasha with a shake of his head.

"Everyone, this is Hermione, our very own Grim Reaper. Hermione, meet the team: Natasha Romanoff better known as the Black Widow," Natasha nodded but stood her ground, clearly on the defensive. "Clint Barton, also know as Hawkeye," To his credit, their archer stepped right up to her and shook her hand.

"That's weird," he commented, and poked her in the face with one of his callused fingers while everyone looked on in horror.

"Clint!" Natasha hissed.

"No, come and see this," he urged, then looked at the Grim and amended, "If you don't mind."

"Go ahead," the skeleton sighed. "You would have figured it out sooner or later anyway and it's not like Fury and his mad scientists didn't have a go at me."

Curious, Tony took her hand. He'd been in armour every time they'd been in contact before, so he was surprised when his skin met warm soft flesh instead of cold hard bones. His eyes telling him one thing, while his hand told him another. He couldn't grasp how it was possible.

"This is hurting my brain," Tony said and made room for Bruce and Rogers who each took a hand, turning it this way and that with similar frowns of confusion.

Natasha approached only when Hermione beckoned her closer, offering her free hand.

"An illusion?" Natasha asked. "Like Loki?"

"The God of Mischief?" Hermione asked. "Fury mentioned him but I wouldn't know, I never met him. I suppose it's an illusion, yes."

"So you're normal underneath?" Bruce asked. "Why don't you take off your disguise then?"

Her jaw did a strange movement that might have been a grimace when she answered.

"I don't control it. It's a curse. I hoped it would wear off before I came here, but it should soon, if I'm not mistaken. I haven't been like this often enough to make a precise prediction."

Tony glanced at Bruce because that was very similar to the Hulk in some aspects, and his science buddy was evidently seeing them too if his pitying smile was anything to go by.

Then her form wavered like a mirage and a young woman was standing there instead of the Grim Reaper: small and pale, with long curly dark hair and dark eyes… Hell, she could pass off as his little sister, it was unnerving. But contrary to him, her fashion sense was terrible: what was with all the white? Compensating for her dark Grim Reaper outfit? Taking in their stares, she glanced at her hands, then smiled at them.

"Hello again."

"Wow, okay, that's a change alright," Clint said.

"Down, boy," Tony growled then properly introduced Bruce and Rodgers to her now that the drama over her non-boniness was over. "This is Dr Bruce Banner. If you saw a giant beanstalk smashing aliens, that was him. And this is Steve Rogers or Captain America when he wears the tightest spandex suit in existence."

Tony expected a reprimand from Rodgers but he and their un-dead guest were too busy making googly at each other.

"Please tell me you're not one of his fans," Tony moaned.

He'd been hoping to rope her into riling up the Captain because none of the others would. None! They didn't understand he was doing it for his benefit: Mr tighty-pants really needed to unwind if he wanted to fit into this century.

"No," she replied while keeping her eyes on Rodgers. "We… erm...sort of met before."

"Before? Before when? Capsicle here has just barely had time to thaw properly, and I think he would have mentioned if he'd met you during the Battle. Right, Captain?" Not leaving Rodgers enough time to answer because once he was on a roll it was next to impossible to stop him, Tony continued his line of reasoning, undeterred by all the glowering now directed his way. They should know better. "Which means you met before Snow White went under for a nap. Probably during the war. I mean, you do seem to pop up during important battles so I shouldn't be surprised. You are, after all, the Grim Reaper and that's when you're busiest. Maybe you should think about delegating a bit more. It must be exhausting."

"Not quite as exhausting as you," she said. "We met briefly in 1943, but I only knew him as Captain Steve" Tony snorted. "So I didn't connect the dots until now. Obvious, in hindsight. Extraordinary coincidence though... Oh, I should probably return this to you."

She took her coat off, waved her stick at it and it turned into a heavy leather coat, much too big and masculine to be her own. Rodgers took it with a strange look on his face. Mopey. He was going to start moping again, damnit.

"Thank you," he said and clutching the coat to his chest like a teddy bear. "I didn't think I'd see it again. Or you. How-"

Tony cut him off.

"No. You," he pointed at Hermione. "Story time. Now."

Rodgers knew something he didn't, so correcting such a blasphemy was more important than any polite chitchat the two were about to engage in.


	2. Chapter 2: Undesirable Number One

Everything just kept getting more and more odd. First, she'd landed herself in the future to her own time by about a decade, during an alien invasion, and the Muggle world had gone crazy in her absence: superheroes, gods, mutants, robots, giant ships flying invisible through the air… The wizarding world seemed downright normal next to it. In fact, from what she'd managed to glean, the magical world was thinking of making their own come-out soon.

The second item of interest she'd gleaned from the magical world was that she was considered dead. Somehow the image of her was still stuck in a time loop in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. It wasn't her, of course, since she was here, in the flesh. Well… most of the time… when the curse of the Master of Death took hold, she had no flesh to show for it, although she could feel it was still there. Just an illusion, but a damn good one, which was triggered whenever she used magic, even if she didn't use the Hallows. Even if she was nowhere near the Hallows. In fact, she'd hidden the elder wand and resurrection stone under the cloak of invisibility, knowing Death would never find them that way.

She intended to keep it that way until she found a solution to this whole mess. Her magic was cursed apparently and she was not eager to find out what else might be affected.

Unfortunately, she'd have to do it alone as she'd discovered she was not only considered dead in the wizarding world at large, but in some circles, she was also accused of gross abuse of time-travel, theft, falsification of identity and illegal duelling in a public space. She'd almost laughed herself silly at that last one, because it's not like she had wanted to have her ass handed to her by Grindelwald, she still smarted from her last encounter with the dark wizard. But the fact remained she couldn't just resume her life as she had so desperately wanted. She was now a criminal, unemployable at the Ministry, and Harry was pretty pissed at her for stealing a family heirloom and knocking about the timeline so badly. Apparently, he would randomly get violent headaches when two different realities tried to coexist. Information she had only learned by stalking her former best friend by hiding under the cloak she'd stolen from his family. Yes, she was now undesirable number one, and maybe she deserved the title.

On a broader scale, the timeline had not suffered all that much: Harry still had an invisibility cape handed to him from his father to Dumbledore, just not _the_ invisibility cape; Dumbledore had still defeated Grindelwald in an epic duel, there was simply no elder wand involved even if the rumours of it remained, and Voldemort had still stolen Dumbledore's wand from his resting place because of those rumours and the wand still did not work for him, even after disposing of Professor Snape; Voldemort had still made a Horcrux out of the Gaunt ring, as he had never known it had once been the seat of the Stone of Resurrection… All little details Time did its best to patch up so they fit the original version. It was fascinating really, but she supposed Harry had a right to be angry since he was the one who suffered most of double visions of the past. As far as she knew, most people didn't, and very few knew she was responsible for it. However, those who did thought she deserved to be "dead". Playing with Time was still very taboo in the wizarding world, but that didn't stop them from giving a thirteen year old a time-turner. As usual, wizards made no sense whatsoever.

Hermione wasn't stupid enough to make her presence known and she probably never would. Unfortunately, that had meant asking Fury for a huge favour: he would hide her, give her a new identity and protect her if need be. All he wanted in return was for her to join the Avengers. So here she was. Incognito.

She still wasn't sure it was a good idea but she had nowhere else to go. No home, no money, no friends, no family… Fury had insisted; Agent Hill had been a huge help on getting her back on her feet; And then the flying toaster had found her and all but ordered her to come and meet the team. So here she was.

And then, there was suddenly a face from her jaunt in the past. It was so strange. She had to find out about Captain America, and the other Avengers, in the newspaper because Fury didn't trust her to access their files after she'd blow her phone up by accident. In her defence, phones were nothing like the last one she'd used. For all intents and purposes, the small device was a computer and phoning was not even what most people used it for anymore. She'd been trying to access the classified files on the Avengers Initiative Fury had sent her when the phone had bleeped at her continuously, demanding an update of something or other, and in her attempts to comply, she had sort of gotten frustrated at the constant beep beep beep… and her magic had taken care of the problem in a very final way. Fury had not been impressed and had refused to replace her phone, which she understood, or entrust her with sensitive information, which was completely unfair. What was wrong with good old fashioned paper-files?

Thus, Hermione didn't know the Captain's real name and had never seen his face because of that silly winged cowl he wore in public. But this man was the very same one who'd captured her in the winter of 1943 somewhere on a snowy back road in Italy. He didn't look a day older, but then, neither did she. She wanted to know his story, but Tony demanded to know hers first and she was done being selfish, so she agreed. It's not like she had anything to lose now.

Once they'd all taken a seat on the oversized and luxurious sofas, plied with drinks and a comically large bowl of popcorn for the archer, she told them about how she'd struck a deal with Death to collect his artefacts, how she'd met Steve and escaped, how she'd made her way across Europe and fought a dark wizard, how she'd had to lie and steal to get what she needed, and how, in the end, Death had betrayed her, flinging her into the middle of the Battle of New-York where he must have thought she was most likely to die, if not from the fall, then from the aliens, destruction or chaos befalling the city. Unfortunately for him, Ironman had come to the rescue, talent and sheer dumb luck had done the rest. Surprisingly, they took in what little she told them of the magical in strides and they didn't interrupt her during her recounting of her time travel, nor did they look as disgusted by her actions as she'd imagined they would be.

"So no, I'm not a good person, if that's what you hoped," she finished. "And if even one of you doesn't want me to be a part of your team, I'll leave. Fury knows it too. It was my only condition."

The Black Widow shrugged.

"You don't know us very well, do you? Fury does. He knows we've done worse and wouldn't cast the first stone."

"Amen to that, sister," Barton said and threw popcorn at her instead.

Most everyone nodded in agreement then turned to look at Captain America who acted as their moral compass according to Fury. He'd warned her he would be the hardest to win over and advised her to play up her British accent and damsel in distress act if need be. Advice she had promptly forgotten because she was not, and would never be, a Slytherin.

The Captain sighed when he felt their gazes on him.

"I've lied before, and… borrowed stuff. There's always a _good_ reasons to do bad things."

"You don't approve of my reasons," Hermione deduced.

"Oh come on Captain, you can't fault her for saving her own hide. Anyone of us would have done the same," Stark said

"I lie _all the time_ ," Bruce agreed. "Or I would have been captured by the Army years ago. I didn't know you minded so much, Steve."

"I don't-"

"I've broken into more vaults than I can count," the Black Widow added. "I've broken more _men_ than I can count."

"I'm the one who ate all the cookies. I lied when I said it was Thor." Clint this time.

Tony snorted and said: "Do I really need to join in?"

"I'm not… I'm not asking you, or anyone else to be perfect. _I'm_ not perfect. I wish you'd stop making me out to be some sort of saint."

"You scold us when we swear," Clint interrupted.

"He's got a point," Tony agreed.

"It's a habit. I'm just saying… We're a team. We need to trust each other, to have each other's backs or it won't work, and I'm not sure I can trust someone who so readily lies to and steals from her own friends."

Personally, Hermione had to agree with him. The rest of the Avengers were divided and their discussion only grew louder and louder until she threw red sparks in the air to get their attention.

"I told Fury I wouldn't join the Avengers if you didn't unanimously agree, so I'll just leave for now. Thank you for the invitation tonight. It was nice meeting you all."

She disapparated before any of them could reply. What had she been thinking? Hoping she could find a place to belong to. Clearly, she didn't deserve one.

"Goddamnit, Hermione!" Maria Hill exclaimed and put her gun away. "I told you not to teleport without warning in the common areas. So, how did it go?"

"Seeing how early I got back, what do you think?"

"That bad, eh? Was Stark being so unbearably conceited you had to leave before you turned him into a frog?"

"No, I kind of like Stark, actually. He's funny. No, it was… Steve Rogers."

"Really? But… he likes _everyone._ I half expect him to apologize when he punches an opponent."

"Fury's not going to be pleased then. He's the only one who seemed reticent to accept me in the group-"

"Well, that's not so bad."

"...at first. I think he convinced half of the others that it was a bad idea by the time I left. By now, I guess they're _all_ happy to have seen the back of me."

Maria sighed and fished out her phone. Her fingers already a blur on the screen.

"Just updating Fury. He'll figure something out. If he managed to get Rogers and Stark to tolerate one another, I can't imagine it'll be as difficult as you think."

Hermione liked Maria. She was tolerant of her magical quirks and always managed to lift her spirits with a few words. Not to mention she had given her her spare room until she got back on her feet. She'd consider her a friend if Fury hadn't made her do it. As it was now, she had no idea what Maria thought of her, if she considered her a friend, a roommate or just a nuisance she was requested to babysit as Agent Hill.

After her disastrous encounter, Hermione needed to occupy her hands and thoughts. The best way to do that, she'd found, was to do her part in rebuilding the city. It reminded her of rebuilding Hogwarts after the war. She knew it helped.

Maria often left her a list of places that needed seeing to on the fridge along with requests she'd collected from Twitter where she was apparently 'trending', whatever that meant. She found the list stuck to the fridge under a magnet of the Black Widow. The agent was a fan apparently and had threatened Hermione with bodily harm and mysterious disappearance of said body if she ever told Romanoff about it. The list was shorter than usual, so she supposed either the city was not in such dire need as it used to be, or she was drastically losing in popularity.

A flooded hospital basement took up most of her time. Syphoning out the opaque, smelly water was a task that wasn't made much easier with the use of magic. Repairing the severed piped and demolished wall on the other hand was a piece of cake, and she checked off that item from the list before moving on to the next, and the next, until well into the night. Sometimes as she went from one task to the next, she'd find a note stuck to the wreck of a car or a sign dangling from an eviscerated house or building, asking for her help. Her help specifically.

The Grim. She still had to get used to that, but Fury had advised her to embrace the secret identity so her people didn't come after her, confusing her for a superpowered muggle, rather than a rogue witch. Hermione didn't know how these people knew she could fulfill their wishes and felt a bit like a fraud of a Father Christmas doing so, but it also made her feel better, atoning for the wrongs she'd caused by striking a deal with Death.

She walked back to Maria's apartment in the wee hours of the morning, casting a reparo here to mend a flattened car, another there to fix a store window, an evanesco to disappear a pile of garbage and a scourgify to clean what she could only assume was alien gunk. Then she saw a large bloodstain. Flowers. Candles. Someone had died there. Hermione crossed the street and hurried away. No one wanted to see the Grim Reaper lurking around the spot a loved one had lost their life.

On the opposite pavement, she paused as she caught her reflection in a store window and pulled up her hood. Early risers were starting to fill the streets in search of their coffee, newspaper or commute. Having used her magic all night, Hermione knew she would be looking like the Grim for a long while and didn't want to startle anyone. But someone screamed and then there was the sound like a drawer full of cutlery being upended. Thanks to her reflexes, Hermione flattened herself against the wall before she even understood what the danger was, and thus, only felt the brush of the piano as it crashed on the concrete in front of her. She'd almost been flattened by a piano.

A piano.

What a way to go.

But she hadn't, and she brushed off the concern of the people now milling about. Looking up she could see the horrified faces of a couple of young men looking out of a window, although whether it was for the state of the piano they had been moving or because they had almost flattened a passerby, she couldn't be sure. Phones were pointed in her direction, which she'd learned meant they were taking pictures or videos of her and she would be, or already was, on the internet. Probably a laughing stock.

In an attempt to make the best of a not so good situation, Hermione kept her wand hidden and attempted a wandless reparo on the piano. Relieved, she watched as it put itself back together slowly, the last key emitting a melodious note as it slid back into place. The crowd applauded. Hermione bowed and then turned on the spot to disappear…

...back into Maria's kitchen, completely forgetting about rule number 1: No "teleporting" into the common areas! Thankfully, it was late enough that the agent had already left for work, leaving on the fridge a new note telling her that Stark had tried to contact her. Hermione crumpled it and put the almost completed list of repairs back in its stead. She would finish it tonight.

She had just about managed to exhaust herself, both physically and magically, that she thought she might just be able to sleep for a bit.

Life as the Grim was a well oiled machine: obey Fury, be nice to Maria, repair all the things, avoid the Avengers, avoid Fury when possible. Sleep and repeat.

But like any machine, it was prone to a grain of sand getting caught in the gears. Or several. Hermione could swear someone was trying to kill her. She wouldn't say actively kill her because it was anything but.

Someone was trying to _passively_ kill her.

It started with the piano. It could have been an accident and if you watched the scene on YouTube - and many did because it had over two hundred thousand views according to Maria- you wouldn't doubt it had been an accident.

But then she slipped on a banana peel the next day and almost broke her neck. The day after that, she sidestepped _two_ banana peels innocently lying outside her door. A skateboard, an empty truck whose driver had forgotten the handbrake, a crate of canned goods falling from a van, an exploding pipe, manhole covers which had not been put back in place… it couldn't be coincidences.

"Found you," Stark said as he dropped out of the sky.

Hermione had been bracing herself for a toilet seat falling from the sky or another banana peel lying in ambush, so she was relieved to see Ironman instead.

"Is this a flashback?" she asked, recalling he'd accosted her in this exact way the last time too.

"Do you want it to be?"

"Maybe. I might change a thing or two."

"Is this about Captain Broomstick-up-his-arse?"

Hermione shrugged. She should have lied to them. It would have made everything easier on everyone, but she hated lying. Contrary to what the Captain seemed to think, it wasn't in her nature and it would have driven a wedge between her and the Avengers eventually. So it was no use lying. She was thinking in circles, there was no way around this problem…

Stark flicked her right in the forehead with his metal finger. It hurt.

"Oi!"

"You were giving yourself wrinkles, frowny-face."

Hermione wriggled her fingers to check she was still in skeleton-mode.

"I doubt it," she said.

"Come on, Your Boniness, we both know there's a squishy young woman under that -aha- grim exterior."

Stark looked very pleased with himself, but she wasn't biting.

"What do you want?"

"We're worried. As in us, the whole team. And by that I, mean even the Captain. We've been following your exploits on YouTube, and, while hilarious, we think the number of accidents you get yourself into can't be natural."

"Yeah, thanks, I've noticed. I think I just hit a string of bad luck lately."

"You don't believe that."

Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"I think Death wants me dead, but for some reason he can't do it directly. There's a whole lot of rules he has to abide, _that_ I know from what little he told me when we were still on speaking terms. Now that I think about it, he didn't actually push me through the portal, he blew on me so I'd fall over on my own… Sneaky bastard."

"And you're sure it's _him_ and not someone else because…" Stark prompted.

Hermione was pretty sure of herself on that one. First, everyone who knew her thought she was long dead and she hadn't deceived them of that notion; Second, she didn't think she had made herself any new enemies; Third, Death still wanted his Hallows and she had them. What had he told her when they'd argued about her fate? Something along the lines of "I'll pluck them from your dead body"? She had a feeling he couldn't take them from her against her will. She either had to give them back voluntarily, or he could take them when she died and they were up for grabs. When the Hallows didn't have a Master anymore… Hermione smacked her forehead. She wasn't the Master of Death… she was the Master of Death's Hallows! It made much more sense now why Death was trying to kill her and wouldn't obey her in the least. The original story must have shortened the title as the story was told over the centuries, from one mouth to the next, until it was put in print with the error and taken for granted. Damn her for trusting books too much.

She had absolutely no control over Death, apart from the fact he could not kill her directly, but he was still trying. What if his attacks became more erratic, more dangerous, caused collateral damage or casualties.

"It's him. You shouldn't be anywhere near me. You or the others. It's dangerous. Just leave me alone."

She apparated away, to a place she doubted Tony Stark the billionaire even knew existed. The building was derelict but still inhabited by less fortunate New-Yorkers so she set to work on repairing it, unseen. She didn't want to think about Death casting a shadow on her right now, although she knew she had to find a solution soon, before the situation got out of hand. She was scared, she realized.

"What are you doing here?" A deep raspy voice muttered from the shadows.

Hermione jumped back from the hole in the rooftop she'd been patching up, pointing her wand at the moving shadow instead.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" she ordered.

A beat passed before the figure stepped into the moonlight, hands up.

"You're the Grim, aren't you? I saw you… on television. You're with the Avengers."

Hermione peered into the dark. The man looked dressed all in dark red leather with two little horn at the top of his head. A devil. Not a sight meant to reassure her. Not when she was so leery of Death.

"Did Death send you?" she asked.

She should have considered before that he might sent another Champion against her.

"Death?" he asked, stepping closer still. His lips were turned up in a mocking smile. "No. Don't let my appearance deceive you, just as I don't let yours deceive me."

Hermione cocked her head to the side, wondering what he meant by that exactly. Could he see through Death's Curse? Through the illusion of the Grim Reaper? She lowered her wand. The devil was just a man in a suit after all and didn't seem to mean her any harm.

"I'm just repairing some of the damage done by the Chitauris. I always seem to find more," she said to answer his earlier question.

The man chuckled and looked down into a messy kitchen.

"I don't think this was done by the aliens. It was a gas explosion if I remember correctly."

Hermione blushed, feeling stupid for her mistake.

"But that one was," he added, pointing a finger a few feet further to their left. "There was plenty of damage done to Hell's Kitchen that day, but we haven't received all that much help to repair the damage since. We're not a priority, apparently."

"I could-" she tried to offer but he cut her off.

"All on your lonesome? That's very… generous. I wonder, what sins are you trying to atone for?"

Hermione flinched. The devil really did see right through her, but as far as she was concerned, he could go mind his own business. She finished repairing the Chitauri-unrelated hole before starting on the other one which looked more like a crater. Something very large had crashed through here. She couldn't tell what, because although no reconstructions seemed to be under way in this area, the alien carcasses and ships certainly had been disposed off, as they had everywhere else. Hermione thought the devil had left when he spoke up again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm simply… weary, of people trying to use my neighbourhood for their own gain. It usually doesn't end well for the people living here."

His neighbourhood. Hell's Kitchen. A devil. It made sense. He just wanted to protect his people.

"It's okay," she sighed. "So you're from around here, I gather."

He didn't answer, which was answer enough. But if he wore a mask, he probably wanted to keep his identity secret.

"I won't come back if you don't want me to," she continued to fill the awkward silence between them. "You're right. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I'm trying to redeem myself, but I don't think it's enough. It doesn't excuse what I've done…"

Hermione realized she was babbling to a complete stranger and stopped, biting her lip. She repaired a couple of windows then looked about for more destruction she could obliterate but only found the devil looking at her, always so silent, she thought once more he might have left.

"I think you're working towards redemption when what you really need is forgiveness. Not that I mind. You're welcome here if you want, but I don't think you'll find the peace of mind you're really looking for."

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again.

"You… Who _are_ you?"

He was dead on. She could spell the whole city back to the way it had been before the invasion, hell, she could help every last miserable soul she met until the day she died and she wouldn't feel any better as long as Harry had not forgiven her.

"You never saw me. I don't exist," he replied with a contagious grin and Hermione would bet that if he didn't have his mask on, his eyes would be twinkling like mad, a la Dumbledore.

"Well, wise-man who doesn't exist, thank you. It's obvious, in hindsight. Now I know what I need to do."

The mystery-man in red had wished her luck and then disappeared as quietly as he had appeared. He had to have some kind of special power to be able to move like that and it would explain the costume, so she wondered why he wasn't a part of the Avengers Initiative.

But for now, she had a goal that didn't involve the Avengers: she would go to Harry. She would beg for forgiveness if she had to and accept her fate, as she should have done when Death offered her a deal. Whatever happened, happened, but she would finally be at peace with herself.

In high spirits for the first time since she'd arrived in New York, Hermione walked out of Hell's Kitchen casting reparo after reparo on every car, window, bicycle, letterbox and anything else that caught her fancy as she walked by. She'd have to come back to the devil's neighbourhood so she could thank him, if not in person at least by her actions. She rounded a corner to go back home when she noticed a note addressed to her asking for her help. It looked like a child had written it, so, still feeling elated and like she had a bit of magic left in her, Hermione followed the note's directions to a narrow side-street, wondering what could be so important to repair back there that a child had felt the need to call on the big bad Grim.

"Hello?" she called at the street's entrance.

It was more a passage to be honest, and probably a dead-end, cluttered with junk and so dark, she doubted anyone was really there. Maybe she should come back during the day.

"Help me please!" a small voice called out to her, turning her blood to ice.

She didn't think to cast a Lumos, she didn't even think to take out her wand. All that went through her mind was that a child was crying for help and she ran forward, tripped on something and almost knocked herself out on something hard and metallic, maybe a dumpster. It would explain the smell. But then something huge and cold rose behind her like an iceberg, and twisted her arms behind her back, making her groan in pain. She tried kicking and wriggling out of his grasp but it was useless and her assailant only laughed cruelly at her attempts.

She wondered if it was Death, tired of waiting for her to die 'accidentally'.

"Hello, Grim. I've been waiting for you."

His voice was almost warm, amused, mocking. Not Death then. But no one she knew. His new champion?

"If you're here to kill me-"

"Can I?" he asked. "That's good to know. No, I really do need your help. I simply did not think you would without a little persuasion. That you might, ah… what is the saying? Shoot first and ask questions later?"

"Why? Who are you?" Hermione was stumped. What was it with people tonight just dropping on her unannounced?

The man twisted her around, her arms tightly held in check still and she came face to face with a giant blue… something. His eyes a bright red. He didn't look like a Chitauri. He didn't look like anything she knew in the magical world. She had no idea what he was, and so, could only stare stupidly.

"Thor didn't tell you. I thought you were an Avenger?"

Hermione grimaced.

"No? Most excellent. Let me introduce myself then: my name is Loki. Maybe you've heard of me?"


	3. Chapter 3: Some Assembly Required

"Friends! Assemble!" Thor boomed as he landed on the still partially demolished Stark Tower, the late morning rays glinting off his armour..

The rubble from the Chitauri invasion had been taken away and Steve thought the place looked better this way. Less pretentious. He especially liked the Loki-shaped hole in the middle of the room. Stark had insisted on showing him what he had planned to do with the tower next and Steve found himself rather surprised by his project because he didn't understand _why_ Stark wanted to take it upon himself to house all the Avengers. It seemed rather hazardous and his tower might not survive it. Again. Steve didn't understand the man at all: he was in turn selfish and generous, obnoxious and likeable, understanding and oblivious… a contradiction upon himself at every turn, which he proved once more upon greeting Thor.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it's: 'Avengers Assemble!'" Tony mocked in what Steve was certain was supposed to be his own voice.

"But the Avengers are my friends," Thor argued.

"I think this is beside the point? Is there an emergency, Thor?" Steve asked, biting back a long suffering sigh.

"Indeed there is, Captain of the Shield and Stars! I have just learned of Loki's punishment!"

"Surely that's a good thing?" Stark replied. "Did he get a good spanking from Papa Odin? Did you take a picture? Please tell me you did."

Thor shifted his enormous boots and shifted his gaze downwards like a grounded puppy.

"Don't tell me you broke the phone again. I made it especially extra-resistant for your gigantic paws!"

"I sat on it," Thor confessed. "The phone of Stark could not resist my muscular buttocks."

Steve had had it. These two had the attention span of a goldfish when they were together and he wanted to cut off Thor before he had the idea of showing them just how hard his… fundament was.

"Thor! Emergency?" he snapped.

"Yes. I just learned Father punished Loki the same way he did me. I do not know what he was thinking, but now I fear my brother will seek revenge upon us. I came to warn you as soon as possible."

"You mean… he's here? On Earth? Why the hell would your old man do that? Loki tried to turn our planet into Chitauriland for fuck's sake! And you're telling me the nutjob responsible is already back? When we haven't even finished cleaning up the mess he left behind?" Tony squawked while Steve finally made the call to Assemble.

As far as emergencies went, this one ranked pretty high up. Bruce would be there in a few minutes since he was already a permanent resident in the tower, but it might take a while for Natasha and Clint to join them. And then... who was their handler now? Steve had no idea who he was supposed to call so he reluctantly notified Fury as well. He should know. Stark was still getting the details out of Thor: apparently, his own banishment to 'Midgard' had given such outstanding results that their father had decided to punish Loki in exactly the same way. Optimistic, to say the least. Stupid, in reality.

"Wait… didn't your father strip you of… well, everything, when he sent you here?"

"That is correct, man of Iron."

Steve and Stark waited for the other shoe to drop. Realization was slowly dawning on Thor's face.

"Oh... that is not good, my friends."

"I would say it is. It means he has no magic, right?"

"I did tell you Loki was adopted, did I not?"

"You might have mentioned it when we were tallying his victims, yeah."

Thor looked troubled, but not because of Stark's barb.

"I think… Loki may not look like he usually does. He hails from Jotunheim."

"Meaning?" Stark prompted, trying to hurry along the process.

"Jotunheim is populated by Frost Giants," Thor said as if it was obvious and Steve pictured Loki as a giant snowman which wasn't frightening at all.

"Hear that, Capsicle? You and Loki are distant cousins."

Steve rolled his eyes and prompted Thor to describe what his brother might look like. If what he said was true, it shouldn't be difficult to locate him. How many tall red-eyed blue men could there be walking around? Bruce joined them soon after, then Clint and Natasha, along with Agent Hill who he'd met a few times and who would be taking over Coulson's position until they found someone suitable for the task. She said suitable like she meant suicidal, not that he blamed her. They were rather a handful to manage and he couldn't imagine anyone but Coulson and his placid smile being successful at the job.

"You know Loki best, Thor. What do you think he would do first? Where would he go? Anyone here he might contact?" Agent Hill asked briskly.

"Alas, I do not know him as well as I thought I once did, Lady Hill, but he must feel quite crippled without his magic, naked even. Just as I did when I arrived on Midgard. My first step was to find Mjolnir, so I think Loki will strive to regain his magic first, but how? That I do not know. Magic is not my area."

"The Grim," Steve said, "I mean… Hermione. She does magic."

The others were giving him the stink-eye. They still resented him for not accepting her amongst them, but he still thought he'd made the right call.

"Sure. _Now_ you want her to help," Stark muttered. "What makes you think she will? If I were her, I'd tell you where you can-"

"Thank God not everyone is as childish as you, Stark, or-"

Agent Hill stood and told them in no uncertain terms to shut it.

"I thought you two had resolved… whatever the matter is between you. Now is not the time for squabbles," she sighed, sat heavily in her chair and Steve thought she looked worried, which was near impossible because she hadn't looked fazed at all when the helicarrier was under attack. "I'll look for Hermione. You too, Stark, if you don't mind. You're usually good at finding her."

"Champion of hide and seek since 1992," Stark said and then simply ordered Jarvis to do all the work for him. "I'll go suit up now. I'd rather be ready if the blue popsicle is after us. No one likes the blue ones. What are they even supposed to taste like? The sky? Nothing's good is blue, even blueberries aren't blue, they're..."

Steve was pretty sure Stark was going to talk himself all the way down to his workshop and into his armor. he wondered if he had created Jarvis just so people couldn't say he was talking to himself. What was the saying? There's a fine line between genius and insanity, but it looked like Stark had jumped over that line entirely and entered a category of his very own.

Shaking his head, Steve returned to the bay window overlooking New-York while everyone went about their business. For now, there wasn't much he could do. Cameras, computers, phones and such did all the looking and they just had to wait for the signal, then go out and arrest Loki. Again. Why the Asgardians thought they could use their planet as a dumping ground for their misbehaving children was a mystery to him, but so was most things nowadays. He was doing his best to catch up, but there always seemed to be something new popping up. Like the Grim and her magical society that was still in hiding, and Death personified making deals with mortals, and time-travel… it had all been a bit too much for him. So, yes, maybe if she had arrived at another time, one where he wasn't already overwhelmed by the modern world and an alien invasion, maybe he would have been more… understanding. But he still thought she wasn't someone they should trust blindly, and until she proved she could be, he wouldn't change his mind on the matter. Trust was earned and that took time. He wasn't going to lie just to make the others happy. They'd asked for his opinion and he'd given it.

However, the videos Fury had provided them troubled him. The director had only said he was concerned and wanted their opinion, but Steve couldn't help but feel like the man was trying to manipulate him.

It worked, to a point. Unlike Stark and Clint who had laughed themselves silly at the many, many accidents the Grim got herself into. Steve was worried. It wasn't natural. Especially not all those bananas. And it was so much like the old cartoons, like Tom and Jerry, except this was a real person… it made the attempts on her life grotesque, as far as he was concerned, not funny. He might not like her, but that didn't mean he wished her harm.

"You look worried, Captain," Agent Hill said, interrupting his maudlin thoughts.

Steve startled, having not realized she was still there. He had thought she'd left with Natasha and Clint.

"So do you," he replied, recalling the anxious look she'd had about her during their meeting. "But I suppose it's natural, knowing Loki is about again. At least the helicarrier is not up in the air this time."

"It's not Loki I'm worried about," she said, glancing around.

Steve raised an eyebrow, wondering how he had ever thought the woman to be emotionless in the past.

"It's Hermione," she confessed in a low voice, and his other eyebrow joined the first because what were the odds they'd been worrying about the same person at the same time? He didn't believe in coincidences. The world was trying to tell him something, and when that happened, he usually listened. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be Captain America today. He'd be… nobody. Skinny, sick Steve Rogers. Unable to help others, barely able to help himself. Probably long dead by now, too.

"She hasn't come home last night and I'm worried. She usually works all night to rebuild what she can, but she always comes back home around sunrise to sleep. Always. She's like my old nan that way, a real creature of habit. It's just not like her… I know it hasn't been too long. I'm probably worrying over nothing..."

Agent Hill shook her head, then looked out at the city while Steve felt a knot start to tighten in his stomach. He had a lot of questions but wasn't sure where to start.

"She lives with you?"

He didn't know why he'd asked that. It's what he least wanted to know but it also felt like the safest question.

"Yes. She's basically an outcast from her own society, you know. Director Fury didn't think she could live alone on base. It can get pretty lonely despite all the people stationed there, and the rooms are a bit sparse. Hermione is… depressed, I guess, and I have a guest room so it seemed like a suitable arrangement. Apart from the teleporting, she's actually a great roommate: she magicks the dishes to clean themselves and does all the laundry in five minutes flat."

Steve had a hard time imagining the Grim Reaper doing the laundry. It made him laugh on the inside and itch for his sketchbook. It also explained why the agent was more… human, than usual.

"You're friends," he stated.

"It's hard not to like her. When you give her a chance, that is."

"She told you about that," he said, recalling the last time he'd seen her at the impromptu party Stark had thrown for her.

He'd come to meet the Grim who had helped them during the Battle of New-York and had been stunned when he saw her real face, the human one, because she looked just like a woman he'd captured during the war. A mysterious woman walking alone in the snow in the middle of nowhere with barely enough clothes to keep herself warm. She had never said a word and he'd felt sorry for her, so he'd given her his coat. It was the gentleman thing to do and she'd...hugged him. It had been weird and he'd been glad for the dark so she couldn't see him blush. But soon after, she'd disappeared from the camp's jail, under the noses of all the soldiers and sentinels… He had never known who she was or how she'd done that, but he and the Howling Commando had heard rumours of her passage all over Europe. They'd tried catching up to her sometimes, when they were headed in the same direction: them, to sabotage Hydra and fight the Red Skull, her, to do the bidding of Death, apparently. But he hadn't known that then. At the time, the rumour of the mysterious woman in white, pulled by a sleigh of wolves, had turned into a story people told their children for bed. Unknown to her, she'd become the Snow Maiden. She probably didn't know, even now.

He'd like to tell her, one day. He could probably find the sketches he'd drawn of her, and maybe Jacques, or at least his descendants, still had her jewelry. The Frenchman had been quite infatuated with her and had brought back the jewelry she had exchanged for food in farms they had also stopped at. She might like them back. After all, she'd returned his coat. Steve was startled to realize he had so much to tell her, a connection he didn't have with anyone else...

"I didn't mean to dismiss her," he said. "I just thought we should take our time to get to know her beforehand, before making her a part of the team, but she disappeared before we could get to that so, erm… maybe you could tell her when you see her?"

"Tell her yourself, Cap," came Stark's voice from all around them. Steve had forgotten he had eyes and ears everywhere in his tower. One of the reasons he wasn't as enthusiastic as the others to move in. "I followed her trail all last night from satellite images. She's quite the busy little bee, patching up all the little holes in the city. I don't think we quite realized the amount of work she was doing. Last place I can pinpoint her location is a residential building in Hell's kitchen. I'll race you there."

They saw Ironman zoom past the window and disappear between buildings. He was probably already there.

"I honestly don't know what he expects me to do sometimes…" Steve mumbled, glaring in the direction where they'd last seen a glint of Ironman. "I don't know what anyone expects me to do at times."

"Sounds like you need someone to talk to. Maybe you should accept Stark's offer to live here. It can't be all that bad and you'll always have one of the others around if you need to chat. Think about it? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll head home and see if Hermione is back. I might ground her if she is, she's _way_ past her curfew."

Again Steve found the image of the Grim Reaper being scolded by the agent amusing, but he had to remind himself there was an actual person beneath that appearance. And one he actually knew more than most having met her in the first part of his life.

Agent Hill had only been gone a minute when she returned, slowly walking backwards and aiming her gun… Steve whirled around, cursing his lack of a shield. He should have suited up. But it wasn't the blue man he'd been expecting to see. This one was red. Very red, from head to toe, with little horns like a devil. Steve had no idea who he was supposed to be, or how he'd gotten in. Stark was always raving about his top-notch security.

"I don't mean you any harm, I'm here about the Grim."

"What about her?" Hill snapped, not lowering her gun one inch.

The man cocked his head to one side, looking in her direction, then nodded.

"She told me she wasn't one of you, but I know you're worried about her and you're right to. Someone took her early this morning and I need help to get her back."

Agent Hill was a scary dame when she wanted something and right now, she wanted her friend back, so the man in red, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, she'd called him, was being grilled. Past her surprise he wasn't an urban legend as she'd believed, she holstered her gun and questioned him mercilessly about who he really was (denied), how he'd met Hermione and where (repairing a rooftop on his territory), what had happened next (a muffled scream in an alleyway after they'd parted ways).

Steve guessed he should have know better than be surprised by this devil after everything he'd seen, and despite his costume, he actually seemed like a pretty normal guy with his trim body, mild manners and sardonic smile. He'd probably get along great with Stark, they were even colour coordinated.

"I followed her trail from the alley she was abducted from to the Central Park Zoo, but I can't find anything after that. I could find her if she was still in Hell's kitchen but I can't find her on my own if she's been taken elsewhere."

"Why do you care?" Steve asked curiously because it seemed like he'd just met her.

"Do you know she's the first and only one of you people to have done anything to help my neighbourhood since the attack? And I couldn't even protect her while she was there… She tried calling for me... but I was too late."

The knot in Steve's stomach pulled a little tighter. He wondered if he'd really misjudged the Grim so badly. Everybody seemed to think so. It didn't sit well with him, and the only way to make things right was to find her and get to know her himself.

"You don't think…" Hill began and paled.

The devil stilled while Steve looked at her quizzically, wondering how things could be any worse right now between Loki's reappearance and the Grim's disappearance…

"Oh, hell, no," Steve muttered as he too connected the dots. They'd wanted her help to deal with Loki, but it seemed Loki had had the exact same idea.

"Someone care to fill me in?" the devil asked and Hill obliged while Steve informed the others of this new, more than likely development.

There was still one tiny, minuscule chance they were wrong, but Steve had a hunch it wasn't so. Loki had the Grim, and he might be partly responsible. If he had just accepted her as one of their own, if she hadn't been walking about on her own, if she'd had someone to turn to…

"Where are you going, Captain?" Hill called when he was already at the elevator door.

"Suiting up!"

He couldn't stay and wait. Do nothing while she was in the hands of that lunatic.

"Are we sure Loki can't do magic?"

"The number of sightings we have of him-"

"Yeah, but how reliable are _those?_ The last one I looked into was a dumbass in a Smurf costume."

"Better than those furries I interrupted in the middle of-"

"Please. No. I don't want to hear that ever again."

Steve sighed as he listened to the chatter over the com. Two hours later and they were still no closer to finding Loki _or_ the Grim. If he did have her, that would have been about eight hours he'd abducted her. He had no means to brainwash people into making them his puppets anymore, so how was he going to convince her to help him? She wouldn't help him? Would she?

The gnawing suspicion about the Grim and his guilt at feeling he might be wrong about her warred constantly within him.

"Thor?" Steve finally had to ask. "How do you think Loki will get the Grim to do his bidding?"

"I did not meet the Lady of Death myself, but I have been assured she is a mortal like my Lady Jane in truth, so she may be susceptible to my brother's silver tongue?"

"What kind of a sexual innuendo is that?" Stark asked.

Steve ignored the rest of the frankly bizarre conversation that followed between his team-mates. He knew morals had loosened considerably since the forties but he hadn't quite caught up to that yet and it would be awhile before he could speak so openly of such matters, if ever. Besides, he didn't want to give Stark more ammunition than he already had to tease him mercilessly. He wondered instead if the Grim would be so easily swayed to Loki's side. She had, after all, made a deal with Death before, so what was to stop her from making one with the God of Mischief? It might even be a step down for her, but what could Loki possibly offer her that could tempt her?

Of course, Thor could be entirely mistaken about his brother. It wouldn't be the first time. Maybe Loki would simply resort to threats and torture, like a normal villain, and the she wouldn't really have a choice. Steve sighed. Once more, he hoped he was wrong. It always seemed to end that way where the Grim was concerned.


	4. Chapter 4: No One Nose

Hermione was confused. She'd been told Loki was the murderous madman who had led the Chitauri invasion which had devastated New York. But so far, apart from the kidnapping, he had been nothing short of charming and she found his behaviour very unsettling. Take Voldemort, for example. That was a real villain, all cackles and threats, plus a little torture on the side to really drive his point home. Maybe it had been his lack of a nose that had made the dark wizard so evil.

But this Loki had a nose and was, for lack of a better word, charming. If you could look beyond all the blue, that is, because she had to admit he reminded her a lot of the cornish pixies Lockheart had left loose in his classroom in her second year. He even had that mischievous look about him, which she should have expected since she'd gathered from past readings that he was... _is_ the Norse Trickster God. Not that she should trust books too much, as she'd discovered from her misadventure with the Hallows.

"I'm not going to help you," she said flatly, glad she was still under the influence of Death's Curse so her expression wouldn't give away how frightened she actually was of him.

She was powerless against Loki, or anyone for that matter, without access to her wand and tied as she was to a chair. At present, she might be able to cast a cleaning charm at him, or levitate a pebble to drop on his head, but she doubted he'd be very impressed by such a display.

"Come now, my Lady," he crooned. "Surely a mere change in my appearance doesn't go against some sort of moral dilemma. It is but cosmetics and will not hurt anyone, I promise you."

"Yeah, sure, but I know how this goes: I lend you a helping hand… and then you rip my whole bloody arm off."

Loki looked at her quizzically, his head tilted to the side while his red eyes bore into her, probably wondering if she was a bit touched in the head.

"I assure you your arms are perfectly safe with me. Besides, I was under the impression you needed them to perform magic, so it would quite defeat the purpose to have them removed. We're civilized people, you and I, I am quite certain we can come to an agreement without resorting to such violence. There has to be something you desire, yes?"

Hermione twitched. One day, she could have happily told him no. Her life had been perfect and fulfilling, and she had wanted nothing more. Today, though, she had nothing, she had no one… and it felt like Loki was rubbing her nose in it.

"So there is. I can see you long for something. Or even someone? Why won't you tell me? I will provide you with your heart's desire and all I ask in return is a little magic trick."

"And then you'll let me go?" she scoffed.

Just how naive did he think she was? It would have been tempting, she had to admit, if he had been trustworthy, but even he, a God, could not give her back her former life. This whole kidnapping business was futile, a waste of her time and her nose was itching, which was quite annoying with her hands tied behind her back. She wondered if she could loosen them up a bit. Harry had taught her a spell for that, butterfingers he'd called it, but she had never tried it wandlessly before...

As she pondered her escape, Loki suddenly rushed her, so she shut her eyes tight, bracing herself for the impact since she could do nothing else. She had known the madman would resort to violence in the end. Typical. But the blow never came. She was manhandled to the side, her and her chair both, but that was all. She was shaken up, and the rope burned where it had dug into her skin from the sudden movement, but she was not hurt and it took her a while to realize she'd been pushed out of the way of a falling roofbeam, rotten on both ends. Not surprising given the state of Loki's hidey-hole. Not surprising given the number of heavy objects that had fallen on her lately. In fact, the only surprise here was the suspicious lack of bananas.

Loki looked up with a frown at the roof through which a patch of clear blue sky was now visible, then down at her.

"Coincidence?" she offered with a grin, because how often did you get the chance to mock the God of Mischief? She laughed but it was more out of nerves. "Ha! He probably didn't expect you to save me, you being the big bad guy and all."

"And who is this 'he' you speak of?"

Oups. Hermione hadn't realized she'd been deducing aloud, which she apparently did more often than not and was one of the reasons people found her to be such an insufferable know-it-all. Not that she cared. Deciding silence was the best defence, she smacked her lips shut and observed him. He did the same and an uncomfortable silence settled between them. But that was fine. She could stay for hours without speaking, her brain would keep her entertained. But her nose was itching, and she was cold, and she hadn't eaten all night, or slept. Plus she'd kill for a warm bubble bath right now. But mostly the itch.

"I don't suppose you would agree to scratch my nose?"

Loki looked down at her, then smirked, his teeth incredibly white against his blue skin.

"Is that really what your heart desires?"

Hermione scoffed and turned away from him as much as she could, which wasn't a lot in truth, but enough to convey her feelings.

"You drive a hard bargain. I'll just suffer in silence."

After a while, she realized Loki wasn't just skulking around at random. He was observing everything with intense red eyes: her, the warehouse, or whatever this messy place was used for, her chair, even her shadow… he seemed to be looking for something. Or waiting for something… someone? Did he expect her to be rescued? She dismissed the notion. Maria might have noticed her absence this morning when she didn't return to crash in the guest room, but she doubted her reluctant roommate would be alarmed over it. Aside from her, no one expected her company, so it might be a while before someone wondered what had happened to her and raise the alarm. She almost told him so, but decided it was better to let him squirm at the imagined rescue.

Loki lunged unexpectedly once more, but to her left this time, and grasped a dark, tattered sleeve from the shadows, pulling and pulling until, out of nowhere, stood Death. Her jaw fell, but she regained her composure out of sheer anger.

"What's this, then?" Loki asked looking between the two of them.

"Are you kidding me?" Hermione snapped because he couldn't look anymore obviously like Death if he pinned a nametag to his black robe.

"I'm guessing a relative? The resemblance is uncanny. Your father, mayhaps?"

Hermione snorted. She had forgotten she still looked like the Grim and it wouldn't wear off anytime soon since she had used magic all night, but she thought Loki would know she was only human. Well, not a muggle human, she did have magic.

"Do not insult me. I have nothing to do with the mortal thief."

"I didn't want to steal your stupid Hallows. You forced me into it!"

"You should have accepted your fate."

"You shouldn't have lied about it in the first place!"

"Only by omission."

"Couple counselling?" Loki interrupted with a mock-innocent air.

She and Death made twin faces of disgust.

"It seems each one of us wishes for something. I propose we help each other out, then go our own merry way."

"I told you: not going to happen."

Loki ignored her and turned to Death's inquisitive lack of eyeballs.

"Forgive my rudeness. I am Loki, of Asguard," he said with a bow which somehow wasn't a gesture of respect or modesty, but on the contrary, only highlighted the very high opinion he had of himself. It was such a Malfoy move, Hermione found herself rolling her eyes, not that it showed.

"Uhm, that explains a lot," Death grumbled. "Your kind doesn't usually visit this realm. To what do we owe the displeasure?"

"It is not by choice, I assure you. I'll be gone as soon as possible, which will be sooner if we are to help one another."

"And what help can you possibly require from me? For that matter, I doubt I could help you. Your kind is out of my jurisdiction, so to speak."

"You could start by telling me why you want my associate here dead."

"Not your associate," she muttered, ignored once more by the two entities looming over her.

And so Death told their tale. Hermione had never seen him so chatty before. Maybe because he felt he was speaking to an equal instead of a mere mortal. Loki asked a question here and there, until he nodded in satisfaction.

"My understanding is that you want your artefacts, these "Hallows", back in your possession as well as her soul." Death nodded and Loki turned towards her. "While _you_ don't want these Hallows but would, I imagine, prefer to keep your soul."

"Obviously," she snarked, channeling her inner Snape.

Loki hummed and walked into the patch of sunlight shining through the hole in the roof. His blue skin almost seemed to shimmer, as if it was made of a million tiny snowflakes.

"Are you so very set on her soul, Guardian of the Dead, or is this just revenge? Which I understand, don't get me wrong. Revenge can be so very delectable, but it sometimes gets in the way of matters of greater import. So what will it be? Your Hallows? Or… her?" Loki finished with a scoff in her direction, conveying quite clearly what little he thought she was worth.

"You would try to manipulate me, Asgardian? You are but a stranger here."

Loki shrugged, then turned his back on Death, but Hermione could have sworn he winked at her as he did so.

"I will have my Hallows. _And_ her soul."

"You will have it… eventually. Sooner rather than later given her poor choice in friends and career. That is the destiny of all mortals, is it not? But your Hallows, now that is a different story. You wouldn't want them to be scattered across the realms, impossible for you to reunite with them ever again."

A rattling sound came from Death, as if every bone in his body was bristling with anger. Hermione didn't know what Loki was playing at, what he hoped to win for himself by negotiating with Death, but she was glad that anger was not directed at her. A cold wind blew through the warehouse, taking with it the ominous rattle and Death himself.

"He'll come around," Loki said confidently.

"They were right. You're mad as a hatter," she said, while mentally adding brilliant and fearless to the list. "And I suppose thanks are in order, for saving me at least, but I'm still not helping you. You found Death's pressure point, well done, but you've still got nothing on me."

Loki strode right up to her and pinched her chin between his blue, ice cold fingers to force her to look up at him.

"Do. Not. Challenge. Me."

As he ground out those words, his fiery eyes lost of their intensity and his whole body language shifted from suppressed fury to surprise, a soft "Oh…" escaping him as he inspected his hand still clutching her chin.

Hermione soon realized the source of his shock when the red gaze shifted to a malicious green and the blue tone of his skin turned a creamy porcelain tint. Soon, instead of the foreboding blue man stood quite a good looking fellow.

"Looks like you're cured. Hooray. _Now_ can you let me go?"

Loki snapped his attention back to her, looking surprised yet again. He frowned and snatched his fingers away from her chin, as if burned, only for him to return to his blue self. She sighed as she understood that what she'd thought was her ticket out of jail had just turned itself into a one-way ticket to cuddle-land. As expected, Loki's cold fingers reached for her face again, her cheek this time. The blue gave way to beige. Fingers off. Blue.

"Well, it looks like I don't need your cooperation after all," Loki said.

"Handcuffs? Really?" Hermione asked, shaking her manacled hand and his by extension. "It's not exactly discreet."

"I don't need it to be. I'm already a wanted criminal. But you'll have to admit it's a lot more discreet than my other form. Or yours," he added, lacing his fingers with hers, and this time, she too saw her Grim illusion disappear at the same time his blue form did. They both looked like normal humans and could walk in a crowd without attracting too much notice, especially with the basketball cap and sunglasses he'd acquired for himself.

"I'll scream bloody murder as soon as we're outside."

"No, you won't," he grinned as he made a zipping gesture with his free hand.

Hermione's lips seemed to seal themselves shut of their own accord and she panicked for a few seconds. until she realized she could breath well enough through her nose if she stopped hyperventilating. Not an easy feat upon understanding that not only was Loki leeching off of her magic to disguise his true self, but also to use as fuel for his own magic tricks. She was nothing more than a battery to him, and she had no choice but to comply for now. He had taken her freedom, her wand, and now her words, but she would bide her time and escape as soon as she could. Kick him in the crotch too, if she had the opportunity. It had worked on Grindelwald after all and she was quite fond of that memory. Maybe she could start a collection of super-villains balls-busting.

"What can you possibly find amusing in your position? " Loki asked, interrupting her daydream of a bent over, groaning dark wizard. "Never mind. Tss, women…"

Misogynistic too? Oh, he definitely deserved what was coming to him. She hoped they ran into the Hulk guy at some point. She'd heard the green giant had wiped the floors clean with his face, leaving a mewling ragdoll behind. Loki darted another sidelong glance at her, seeming disconcerted when her smile only widened.

Loki dragged her along. It was obvious he already had a plan he wanted to set into motion and whatever it was, it couldn't be good, for her or for the Avengers. Or the rest of the world for that matter. The man was a lunatic who wanted a crown and you just had to crack open a history book to know that never ended well. They were keeping to the less crowded streets of the city, but this being New-York, they were bound to come across some officers of the law sooner or later. As soon as she spotted the uniforms, Hermione dropped to the ground like so much dead weight and refused to budge despite Loki's tugs and hissed threats. The painful jabs of magic were harder to ignore but she powered through and only grimaced in pain, no sound making it out of her mouth.

"Is there a problem here?" one of the police officers asked, alerted by the commotion.

"No, no. No problem, officer. My sister is a bit simple in the head, doesn't understand she can't just sit in the middle of the street when she's tired. Do you, sweety?" he added in her direction, speaking loud and slow as if she was hard of hearing.

The officer looked down at her and she addressed him pleading eyes, shaking her head vehemently, and thrusting her hand up so he could see the handcuffs… which were gone… all he saw apparently was their linked hands and her erratic behaviour. He sighed.

"My sister has a kid like that. Here, I'll help you out," he added and pulled her up by one arm while Loki did the same on her other side, his fingers digging painfully through her jacket and into her flesh. "Be sure to use the crosswalk next time."

The police officer went on his way without a backwards glance while Loki dragged her into a small alley where he snapped the handcuffs back on.

"That was a stupid move, girl. I've been far too lenient on you. Enjoy the darkness."

Darkness is exactly what she got: she couldn't see anything, even though her eyes were wide open and she knew from just a few seconds ago that it was broad daylight outside. Loki had rendered her blind, the bastard, but as if that wasn't bad enough, and yes, maybe even in that state she could have tried something, but Loki had turned her deaf as well. Concentrating, she could only make out very loud noises, like the honk of a car nearby… a siren further away… the whole world muffled, out of reach, and her only link to it were the cold fingers gripping hers.

He'd made her dependant on him and for hours, she trailed after him, not knowing what he was doing or where they were. Exhaustion settled in her bones and she didn't think it was only due to the stress of depending on her captor to keep her from getting run over or falling down a hole. She felt drained to her very core, and was stumbling more and more, until she felt she might pass out on the spot.

When his hand finally untangled itself from her own, there wasn't an immediate relief from the darkness. Logical, she supposed. She could cast spells that would remain without her direct supervision, so why not Loki? Maybe their magic was more alike than she'd first thought.

Suddenly, sound flooded her ears again. It wasn't much: the soft hum of electricity, muffled voices of people talking outside and soft footsteps on a carpeted floor, an exhalation close by, the shift of fabric…

"Drink," Loki said and she lifted her hands, searching blindly until a cold glass was dropped into them, Loki's fingers closing around hers to make sure she didn't drop it.

He'd taken the handcuffs off again, although she couldn't tell when. The water was heavenly and the glass emptied all too soon. Hopefully, food would be the next order of business, but it's not like she could ask with her mouth magically zip-locked as it was.

Cold fingers brushed her cheek and her sight returned. She blinked against the harsh light, artificial and muted as it was, until she could finally take in her surroundings: a hotel room, without a doubt. A posh one at that, with its rich carpets and fancy furniture, but what caught her eye the most was the meal laid out in front of her. She thought she might have hallucinated the mouth watering aromas she was so hungry. She didn't even hear what Loki was saying over the growls of her stomach and she ate everything before he could take it away.

"Are you quite finished?" Loki asked when she had licked the plate clean. Figuratively speaking, she wasn't an animal, but she had been eating the food at Weasley-speed.

"Bathroom," she muttered and realized she could speak now and had been able to for a while now. "Bastard."

Loki rolled his eyes and Hermione took her time in the bathroom, deciding against taking a shower to piss him off only because she was too tired to care. She stumbled back out, ignored her captor and headed straight for the large bed, diving head first.

It felt like no sleep at all, but the insistent nudge of her shoulder woke her up enough that she opened one baleful eye. Blue. Loki. Right. She'd hoped that had been a nightmare, but this was to be day two of her captivity.

"Why do you still look like that?" he asked with a wave of his fingers at her.

Hermione looked down at herself, her normal human self, then patted her hair down because it had to be a right mess by now. She doubted Loki cared much about her bed-head and rumpled clothes though.

"Normal, you mean?"

Death's curse would not return if she did not use her magic and she wasn't sure she could even cast the tiniest little spell with how much she felt drained, even after a good night's sleep. Loki nodded at her question.

"I don't turn into a pumpkin until midnight," she said, enjoying the man's scowl.

As far as she was concerned, he could go and fork himself.

"Humans. You think you're so funny. Let it not be said I didn't try."

He was on her before she could jump out of the way and darkness surrounded her once more. Blind, deaf, mute: she only knew what was happening due to the cold fingers pulling her along. She wondered if he would drain her completely of her magic, if it was even possible, if she would become a squib, or die from it.

How long would it take.

How long had it been since that morning?

Two? Three hours? More?

Putting one foot in front of another was the only battle she was capable of fighting right now.


	5. Chapter 5: Butterfingers

They found him! Well, not him actually. Loki was as slippery as an eel, but they found the Grim thanks to the many pictures Fury's mad scientists team had taken of her while under their care, both in her disguise and in her human form, but the man next to her was Loki, no doubt about it. The hat and sunglasses were a piss poor disguise when you were looking at your arch-enemy, or your own brother in Thor's case. At first, Steve had felt vindicated. The Grim was helping Loki after all, she had betrayed them and what they stood for. He'd been right all along. But upon closer inspection, they weren't holding hands, all lovey-dovey, like he'd first assumed. No, something was off about her. The image was a bit grainy and they were surrounded by civilians, but…

"She's blind," Natasha said with certitude.

Not blindfolded, her eyes were wide open, but now that Natasha had pointed it out, it was obvious: the way she never looked at her feet or the people around her, how she stumbled over and over, or failed to dodge the most obvious of obstacles… Loki was pulling her along without a care for her safety.

"How?" he asked.

"Magic," Thor answered with certainty. "It's a trick he enjoys. The strongest combattants can't do much against him if they don't know where to hit."

"But I thought he couldn't do magic?" Clint asked with as much apprehension as Steve had ever heard from him.

Not that Steve blamed him. Clint had been under Loki's spell for quite a long time and he knew better than most how the Grim had to be feeling right now. How powerless… But at least she was alive, and looked relatively unhurt.

"He's also supposed to be blue," Stark replied. "I think our intel is crap."

"I assure you, my father would not have sent Loki back with his powers intact. I imagine it has something to do with the Lady at his side."

"The Grim," Steve explained since Thor had not seen her in this form before.

"Hermione," Agent Hill snapped. "Any idea where they went from there?"

"Jarvis is looking into it. Just a sec." Stark's fingers were a blur, his eyes darting all over his holograms. "Aha. Images from a security camera from the lift of a hotel. Last night and… yep, this morning. They left already. We didn't miss them by much, just over an hour. But now that we've got the beginning of a trail, we should be able to follow them easy-peasy, like stealing a lolly from a baby, although why you'd want to do _that_ is anyone's guess. I mean, baby drool, yuck. Why not go to the source and rob a candy shop where all the clean candy is?"

Despite the man's continuous rambling, Steve was impressed at the way he jumped from a security camera in the hotel lobby, to a picture on Facebook of a couple leaving the Hotel, to one on Instagram of a coffee cup with Loki's head just visible over the rim, to a jeweler's security camera pointing outside, to a police cruiser's dash-cam...

"This is it. That's them now," Stark announced.

"Now now?" Steve blurted out.

"No, yesterday now, Captain Slow-Poke. Corner of 5th and 14th towards Union Square Park. Now! Let's go! Go, go, go!"

Steve knew Stark would be the first one to get there once more, so he grabbed his armoured wrist before he could leave while the others scrambled for the exit.

"Wait, Stark. Can you take me there?"

"What? Like… a piggyback ride?"

"Please? I feel like this is all my fault. I need to make it right."

"Ah. Save the damsel in distress. I guess that's more your sort of thing. Okay, but only if I can carry you princess style. Paparazzis are going to gobble that up. I'll have the pictures framed for posterity."

"Stark…"

"At least call me Tony."

"Fine!"

Stark chuckled and grabbed his arm, then pulled him off the tower like a rocket. He almost dropped his shield from the sudden burst of speed. One minute later, he was dropped in front of Loki and an oblivious Grim, while Stark landed behind him, repulsors blasting. Civilians in the street too one look at them, then turned on their heels in search of an alternate route, as if this was just one more nuisance of living in the city. However, a few got closer and pointed their phone their way. Steve would have a word with those later, about security and priorities and why they should not act like idiots, but his own priority right now was the Grim, who looked completely despondent, like one of those creepy porcelain dolls, only human sized.

"The Soldier," Loki sighed. "And the Tin-man. To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"Step aside from her, and surrender yourself," Steve said.

"Or we'll feed you to the Hulk," Stark added and Steve wasn't entirely sure if he was joking or not so he just shrugged it off.

"I have no inten-"

Steve took that as a no, and attacked first. He'd given him a chance and now he was fair game. The shield came at Loki lightning fast but he somehow managed to dodge it anyway and pulled the Grim in front of him to protect himself.

"You try something like that again and she'll be the one getting hurt."

The Grim's eyes were wide and darting left and right, but she didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge him or Stark, whom she at least got along with. Then something about her shifted, darkened...Loki couldn't see it but she was turning into the illusion of the Grim Reaper, which meant she was doing magic, although Steve couldn't tell what. A sidelong glance at Ironman told him that he had seen it too. They had to be ready for the moment…

Suddenly, her hand slipped free from Loki's and she stumbled a couple of steps forward, Loki made a grab for her hand again but couldn't keep a hold on it, as if it was as slippery as soap and she blindly scrambled forth again before falling to the ground. Steve rolled forward to repossess his shield and put it between her and Loki who was making another grab for her… but was hit by twin repulsor blasts instead. Ironman had his back and had gone all out, but he doubted that would be enough against Loki. Slow him down, at best. He yanked the Grim back on her feet. No time to be a gentleman just yet, keeping her out of Loki's reach was their new priority. She swayed where she stood, still not speaking.

"Grim?" he called. "Hermione?"

No answer, she didn't even look up at him and he wondered if Loki had taken more than her sight. She wasn't struggling against him, however, so she somehow knew it was him, or another friendly.

"Wow! What the hell is that thing?" Stark exclaimed and Steve looked up again while keeping a firm grip on the Grim, who in turn held onto his arm like a lifeboat at sea.

A blue man was snarling at them. The clothes were Loki's even if they had split at the seams to accommodate his sudden growth spurt, so this had to be what he really looked like under the illusion: beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Thor had said Loki was tiny for a frost giant too, so he was glad he wasn't faced with the real deal, but even now, he wasn't sure what to expect from him and was mostly relieved when Thor arrived to take the problem out of their hands, holding his brother by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving kitten. Somehow, the contact between them was enough for Loki to return to his more human appearance once more when Thor had claimed not to know magic… Of course, he did control lightning, but maybe he didn't view it as magic of his own.

"What shall become of my brother?" Thor asked.

"I am not your brother, you oaf. I couldn't be any less obviously your brother," Loki hissed in his futile attempts to twist out of Thor's grip.

"Well, we're not going to pack him home if he's just going to wind up here again. Kind of defeats the purpose," Stark said. "Don't you have some sort of space rainbow prison guarded by unicorns up there."

"We'll be taking custody of him," Agent Hill said.

Steve looked behind him to see the rest of his team had arrived as well as several black SUVs with tinted windows that screamed SHIELD. He shrugged. He didn't care where Loki was kept as long as he was out of their hair.

"I'll take Hermione too, Captain," she added, walking up to him.

This, he was more reluctant to do, although he wasn't entirely sure why. Hill was the Grim's friend and her roommate so it stood to reason he should leave her in her care.

"Where are you taking her?" he asked.

Hill raised an eyebrow.

"I wish to speak with her," he explained.

"When she feels better… I'll let her know."

Steve sighed. He'd done what he could to make amends. He handed the Grim over to two agents and she was gone.

"Better luck next time, Prince Charming," Stark said with a pat on his shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks… Tony."

A promise was a promise, but then Stark went and made an ass of himself by making a big deal out of it, making him regret his decision immediately. Typical Tony, in short.

A couple of days later, he wondered if he should go and knock on one of SHIELD's many doors to ask about the Grim, or just ask Tony to find him Agent Hill's home address. He would too. The man had become surprisingly non confrontational since Steve had started calling him Tony, although he couldn't begin to comprehend why. One of those modern things he hadn't quite caught on to, no doubt. However, he didn't relish the thought of owing Tony a favour, especially since he had the feeling he would ask him to move into what was now called Avengers Tower. The others had, and he did feel a bit left out, but he didn't feel at ease in a place that seemed almost alive. Not that he didn't like Jarvis, he was a fine… being? But add to that the talking fridge, the puppy-like little hoover zooming all over the place and the temperamental coffeemaker… it was just a bit too much for him all at once.

The knock on his door startled him because most of the people he knew let themselves in: Tony because he had no manners, the others because they were spies or prefered to use the window for some unfathomable reason, so a knock was a nice change. Finally, someone understood what a door was for.

"Good afternoon, Captain. I hope I'm not imposing, but Maria told me you wanted to see me?"

The Grim, only not, because she looked like a real dame and not a very realistic Halloween costume. Hermione, then. She was even dressed like a normal, modern woman with blue jeans and a wooly jumper. He might not have recognised her if he'd crossed her path in the street.

"Captain?"

"Yes, sorry. I wasn't expecting- I mean, not that I'm not glad to see you, but you didn't need to come all the way here. I would've…" he trailed off at her amused smile, not mocking, not like Tony's, but not an expression he'd expected to see on her face. She'd always been so distant and calculating, but he hadn't actually seen that much of her, he supposed.

"Sorry. Please come in," he said and opened the door wider in invitation. "Can I offer you anything?"

"Actually, I brought tea," she said holding up two foam cups. "I find tea is always the perfect companion to discussions."

Steve shrugged. He preferred coffee but he'd learned to appreciate a good cup of tea with Peggy.

"I don't mind, but don't tell the others. They make fun of me enough as it is."

"For drinking tea? What kind of barbarians are they?"

"I heard Foster's intern call them coffee junkies once. Tony talks to his coffee-mug in the morning and Natasha once broke Clint's finger because he tried to steal her cup of triple-latte-spicy-espresso-something."

She laughed.

"Sounds like you must have your hands full with that bunch."

"Yeah… about that. It's why I wanted to talk to you. When you came to introduce yourself, I never meant to chase you away. You left so abruptly, I never got the chance to tell you I wanted to get to know you better before getting you on the team, and then...well, Loki happened…"

She grimaced and nodded grimly.

"I didn't see that coming. It's not an experience I care to repeat either, but Maria tells me he won't be a problem anymore… I'm not sure what she meant by that."

"Nothing good, I expect. Don't get me wrong, he probably deserves what's coming to him, but I've come to learn that not everything is black and white, SHIELD being a prime example."

"You're talking about that missile…"

Steve nodded. If it hadn't been for Tony, NewYork and all its inhabitants would have been toast and not because of the aliens.

"Amongst other things," he replied, recalling the hydra-like guns and the "special" cell they had made for Bruce.

"But you stay with them? With SHIELD?"

"It's easier to keep an eye on them from the inside," he replied with a shrug. "What about you?"

"As I said, I owe Fury a favour for hiding me. I pay my debts. In fact, I'm going back to England to make amends."

Steve's eyebrows shot up.

"Fury just lets you go like that."

She smirked, made her wand appear and twirl in her hand.

"I can be back in the blink of an eye so it's really none of his business."

You mean you can… erm... teleport? That far?"

For the first time, Steve felt a bit jealous of her abilities, of anyone's abilities for that matter. If he could do that, he'd be going all over the world, all the time, see the old sights, what they'd become after the war, see those few friends that were still here... and he could still be an Avenger.

"It's not exactly the same spell but yes, essentially. I've gone back once already to test the waters."

"And?"

"It doesn't look good for me, not that I blame them, but I have to apologize to Harry, at the very least."

"Your… boyfriend?"

She hadn't mentioned any family to anyone that he knew of so it seemed like the most logical explanation.

"Dear Merlin, no. He's a friend, a very close one, like a brother really. We grew up together."

Steve nodded, he understood that. It was like him and Bucky. Brothers in all but name… it's who he missed most. Maybe Hermione felt the same.

"He'll forgive you, you know, if you're that close."

He knew he would forgive Bucky anything.

"Thanks, I think I needed to hear that. The devil in Hell's Kitchen convinced me to go whatever the consequences, but now… I'm not as scared."

"My pleasure."

He was starting to understand what everyone saw in her. She was easy to speak to, not at all intimidating, unlike her Grim appearance and was good at heart… or made a very good impression of it. He scowled at the stray thought, wondering why he had so much trouble trusting her. Was it just because of that stunt she'd pulled during the war by escaping her prison under their very noses? Or was it because she'd made a deal with Death? Yes, that still rankled but maybe it was his old-fashioned self that couldn't accept such a thing. But she'd made a friend of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen too and he turned out to be a pretty swell guy… Maybe he should just flush all his prejudices down the drain.

"Are you going alone?" he asked with what he thought was a nonchalant air.

Hermione held his gaze for an uncomfortable moment, as if she was seeing right through him.

"I think Maria would have been the only one who would have wanted to accompany me, but she's practically glued to Fury's side and her loyalties rest more with him than me. I can't risk her snitching on me."

Steve's eyebrows shot up. She hadn't even told her roommate? And was hiding it from Fury to boot, but then why tell him of all people?

"You don't think _I_ will?"

"Uhm… No." She smiled broadly. "First of all, you're feeling guilty about what happened with Loki and I intend to take full advantage of that. Second, if I want you to trust me one day, I have the feeling I'll have to be honest with you even if it costs me, and finally, and correct me if I'm wrong, but how would you like to visit the old continent. It's changed quite a bit since that war."

"Really?"

She nodded, but he didn't like her mischievous air as it reminded him too much of Loki, or Tony. He had half a mind to pinch her to see if she'd turn blue or grow a goatee.

"Sure. That way you can keep an eye on me, and road trips create bonds, brings people together right?"

"I suppose…" Steve agreed, unsure how to deal with so much honesty all of a sudden as he didn't actually get this much from the rest of the team put together.

"So you're in?"

Steve nodded. How could he refuse? Travel, magic, friendship and a mission? It sounded like a quest if he ever heard one.

"When are we leaving?"

"Have you finished your tea?"

Hermione packed his travel bag and his uniform, shield included, in her pocket… Her _pocket_. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised anymore by her abilities even when they completely defied logic and the laws of physics, buy it still hurt his eyes and brain to witness it first hand.

"Hey, how come you didn't turn into the Grim? You used magic, right?"

"It's a teeny tiny loophole. I'm using a magical artefact, the erm… Undetectable Extended Pocket. It's a thing. So I'm not using my magic to use it, although I did use it to create it."

"That's very sneaky of you."

"Uhm. I'm guessing I might have been sorted into Slytherin if I hadn't been a muggleborn," she said cryptically before holding out a wooden spatula.

He looked at it, then back at her.

"Keep your finger on it," she instructed.

"On your spatula?" he wanted to clarify.

"Trust me."

He supposed he would have to start somewhere, even if he felt like she was taking the Mickey out of him, and he curled his index finger around the cooking ustensil.

"Portus," she said and the world turned into the worse washing machine ride ever, spitting him out on the other side of the world when it was done chewing him out.


	6. Chapter 6: Travel Hazards

Hermione, now in her Grim form, skywalked back to the ground where Steve had face planted, which was only to be expected. The same had happened to her the first few times she had used a portkey, but it was sort of amusing to see the great Captain America be anything but perfect. She had half-expected him to summersault his way down, to be completely honest, but portkeying was just as hazardous as flipping pancakes and landing in a crumpled heap on the floor was a more than likely outcome than not. Thankfully, she'd had lots of practice at not laughing in such a situation, what with Harry who had never quite mastered the wizarding means of transport apart from the broom.

She would've helped Steve up, but she doubted she could move him an inch if she put all her strength into it. The man was a mountain and she wouldn't be surprised if people thought he was a half-giant, albeit a very handsome one. She couldn't begin to imagine him with a shaggy beard or wearing a hairy vest, although she wouldn't be surprised if he considered dragons cute and fluffy. So Steve picked himself up on his own, rubbing the back of his neck with a self-deprecating smile.

"Haven't been that clumsy in a while," he said, then looked at the town sprawled around them, thousand of lights shining in the night. "We're in London?"

Not that you'd guess from their surroundings because she couldn't very well have them land in front of Big Ben or Buckingham Palace. She'd had to content herself with the roof of an empty school as it was about the only place she could think of that would be deserted at this hour.

"Yes. We're not far from the entrance to the magical world. We'll go by foot, but first, I'm going to have to un-muggle you or you won't be able to see or go to half the places I need to. Mind you, I've never tried something like this before, but I've always wanted to try. The theory is sound so I can promise you it won't hurt, but I'm not sure it'll actually work. Worse case scenario, you might bounce off people and walls and I'll have to think of something else."

She explained how there were muggle-repelling wards everywhere but hoped that by placing an anti muggle-repelling charm around him, the two spells would cancel each other out, like two force fields, only she wasn't sure what way the polarity would go and Steve had a very confused expression all throughout, but nodded in the end.

"Like fridge magnets," he concluded with a nod.

"Close enough," she grinned and started waving her wand at him, stepping back after a while to inspect her work, not that there was anything to see, but how else could she inspect a job well done?

Before they sneaked their way out of the school and into the busy city nightlife, Hermione made sure her new long coat and large hood covered her completely, as well as a pair of gloves and a mask of a human face. It made her look creepy, like a life sized porcelain doll but it's all she had found to pass off as human while still being able to use her magic.

The walk to the Leaky Cauldron was short but Steve seemed unsettled nonetheless at the way everyone on the street flowed smoothly around him like river water around a rock. Hermione took advantage of it though and walked close to him so people would not gawk at her and avoid her just the same.

"Do you see a pub in front of us? On the right, next door to the music shop?" she asked him when they were almost there.

"I think so. Looks pretty grubby," he said then narrowed his eyes. "The Leaky Cauldron?"

"Yes! That means it works. Come on," she enthused, pulling him very ineffectually forward.

No one would recognize her in her human mask, nor would they in her Grim appearance for that matter, but that might cause a panic, so she didn't skulk around as she had done on her last visit. She sat Steve at a table, glad her spell work seemed to be holding up, and went to the bar to order a couple of butter beers and borrow the only two "newspapers" they had at their disposition. Neither were reliable information sources, but they would let her know the gist of what was going on and which way the political wind was currently blowing.

Good old Tom didn't so much as bat an eye as he served her. He'd probably seen worse. Hags, Goblins, Voldemort… her appearance was probably tame in comparison.

"Butterbeer?" Steve asked as he read the label. "Beer… with butter?"

"Your first trial of trust," she said, knowing he wouldn't back down.

He was a bit like Harry that way. Well, like all men now that she thought about it. Women could control the world with a bit of reverse psychology. As expected, Steve sniffed the bottle then took a large swig, putting it back down.

"That's… actually not bad," he said with a smile. "By the way, I'm going to assume it's normal the little people on your newspaper keep waving at me. It's weird. It looks like real paper, but-"

"It is. It's the photograph that's magic, uses a special camera. I could get you one when the wizarding world finally comes out of the closet. It looks like it should happen anytime soon. That thing with the aliens really stirred things up. At least, wizards and witches are human, so with aliens thrown in the mix all of a sudden, they think they can bond over a common enemy and have the pitchforks pointed that way."

"Probably won't be as easy as you make it sound."

"No, probably not, but it's a huge step forward for my kind. Don't forget they've been hiding away for centuries."

Hermione closed the newspaper. The timeline seemed to have stabilized, mostly because most people affected were already dead, except for Harry because of his personal link to the cloak.

"Alright. Everything seems clear to go as long as we don't run into Harry too soon."

"Your childhood friend Harry? Isn't he the reason we're here? Why would you want to avoid him?"

Hermione grimaced at her last memory of her friend, spitting mad and barely holding back his curses.

"It's not that easy. First off, he's the equivalent of you or Ironman in the wizarding world, not easily approachable and very powerful. Secondly, he has a grudge against me."

"How bad?"

"What would you do if the red skull came up to you to apologise for his misguided ways."

"I don't suppose he'll have time to come near enough…"

"My point exactly. I want to visit myself first, see if part of his anger is because he doesn't believe I'm who I say I am."

"You lost me."

"According to Death, I was stuck in a time loop. Death borrowed me from there, but it would have been noticed, so he must have left an image of me in there."

"Okay, so we… break the time loop? Is that possible?"

Hermione blinked at him as she processed his words. It was so simple but it was actually a great idea. Probably impossible to attempt without the elder wand so it was a good thing she'd taken it along for this trip, just in case.

"So where is this second you?"

"Oh, just in the most well guarded place in the heart of the ministry."

Steve laughed at her deadpan expression.

"I'm not becoming an outlaw from your people. Your guys are scary."

"We're not doing anything illegal if we don't get caught. I can go alone anyway. You can just wait here with a couple of butterbeers. You'll be my alibi."

Steve seemed to be thinking seriously about it but he finally shook his head.

"No. I want to see. We're just visitors, right? Going to check on an old friend who happens to work in the Ministry."

"Visitors! Yes. We'll do that! It's what I did in-"

A chorus of giggles interrupted her and she stared in disbelief as a group of three young witches approached their table, their wide, unblinking gazes fixed on Steve as if they were under the influence of armortentia

"You're Captain America!" one of them said excitedly and Hermione refrained from snorting the "obviously" that desperately wanted to come out.

She watched Steve instead, which was quite entertaining. He seemed to loath the hero worship as much as Harry did, blushing and trying to gently get them to leave while not being too obvious about it.

"Just an autograph! Please please please? Miranda is going to be soooooo jealous."

Steve sighed but agreed and scrawled his name on three pictures of himself that he seemed to be relieve to see were not moving on their own. The gaggle of witches left, their heads pressed together as they whispered and giggled between them. Steve was about to take another sip of his butterbeer when Hermione hurriedly put a gloved hand on the opening, remembering one of the reasons why Harry hated going out.

"What?" Steve asked with a confused expression as he lowered his bottle.

"I wouldn't put it past them to have slipped you a love potion."

She hadn't seen them do it but she wasn't infallible and it wasn't a risk she was willing to take.

"I don't know why I'm still surprised by what you say."

Hermione shrugged good naturedly.

"Sorry about that. I hadn't anticipated that you guys would be famous in the magical world too. I should have disguised you beforehand. In fact, we should probably do it before we enter Diagon Alley. You're starting to attract too much attention."

Steve looked around the room, taking notice of all the looks he was garnering. It wouldn't be long before the news travelled like wildfire.

"Let's go," he said with a nod and followed her out towards the back.

The alley's entrance was closed for now but Hermione pulled Steve behind the shed in case someone decided to come through right that moment. It wouldn't be of much use to disguise him if everybody knew he was and what his new appearance was. Hermione looked up at him, frowning as she focused on what she needed to do.

"It won't hurt," she said as she pointed her wand at him.

She made his hair grow out and turned them black, turned his blue eyes a dull grey and after careful consideration, made him grow a beard to hide the rest of his features. She couldn't help but laugh at the result, especially when he commented how weird it felt.

"Wait until you see yourself in a mirror," she said. "Don't worry, you're still handsome in a rugged caveman sort of way."

She had a feeling he was blushing under all his facial hair and now wished she hadn't overdone it so much. Steve seemed to love the way the entrance to Diagon Alley opened up, his hand hovering over the folding bricks, following them until they stilled, but that was nothing compared to the gasp that escaped him at his first glance of the magical street. She remembered her own jaw had dropped at the sight of the cobbled streets and crooked shops straight out of a fairytale on her first visit with her parents. It was more impressive in the day however as most shops had already closed at this hour, but it was still very quaint with its illuminated street lamps, wonky architecture and colourful windows.

"Err… Hermione?" he called her, pulling her arm to get her attention when she had been too focused on the Ministry's building up ahead. "What are those?"

She looked to where he was pointing, hurriedly tugging his hand back down when she realized he was indicating the Goblin guards standing in front of the still open bank.

"Goblins," she hissed. "Don't point anything towards them, they might take it as a declaration of war."

"What?"

"I'm serious."

"So they're not very small humans?"

"No. Well…" she considered how best to answer. "Maybe very very far down the line we shared ancestors, because I know for a fact humans and Goblins can mate and produce offspring."

Steve looked between her and the Goblins with a face like he'd just chewed on a lemon.

"Not me!" she exclaimed. "I had a professor who was half-Goblin."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to offend. It's just a very strange concept to get used to. Are there other… people like the Goblins in your world?"

"Oh, lots," Hermione said as she walked on past Gringotts before the Goblins decided they were up to no good, ticking them off on her fingers. "Giants, although don't ask how they mate with humans, I have no earthly idea and have never been courageous enough to ask, werewolves, veelas, leprechauns, merpeople, centaurs and… well, I'm not sure about vampires. I've never met a half-vampire before but since they're technically dead, I don't think they can reproduce or at least, not in the conventional sense of the word."

She stopped in her tracks when she realized Steve had not said anything for a while and found him a few steps behind.

"Steve?"

"You mean everything's real. All those stories in books, fairy tales…"

"Fairies are real too," she added unhelpfully.

Steve huffed and took in the looming central building of the Ministry in front of them.

"Maybe you can tell me more about your world over tea or butterbeer when we're done here."

"I'd like that," she said, surprised it had been that easy to win the Captain over. She tugged him by his sleeve, leading him towards the side of the building, keeping to the shadows, but heading for the large M-shaped entrance.

"You're sure we can just walk in like that?" he hissed slowing down his steps.

"Guess you're right. I'm not sure how the charms I put around you will hold up pass the ministry's entrance. I read they hired the Goblins to add a load of wards to tighten security. Here, wear this. It should give you cover if nothing else."

She handed Steve the other Hallow she had brought along, having only left the creepy black stone behind. Steve let his hand run over the surface before draping it around his shoulders and pulling the hood down. Hermione was about to congratulate herself for being so clever when she noticed two disembodied feet left on the cobbled street, shifting from one to the other.

"Let's just hope nobody looks down," she sighed and walked in.

There was a sort of anteroom they had to wait in for a couple of minutes while she could feel magic pridding at her. It was a challenge to remain still but if this was security they'd added to the main entrance, it couldn't be anything nefarious. Finally, a chime sounded and two badges popped out of the wall next to the still closed door. Hermione picked up both badges. The first read: Steven Grant Rogers, friendly ghost. She handed it to Steve who read it then pinned it to the cloak. It looked so incongruous, even Hermione wanted to laugh despite the tension running through her, but the second badge made her roll her eyes: The Grim, cleaning services. Seemed like the security wards were not quite perfected after all, but Steve laughed at her badge, a deep booming sound she wouldn't mind hearing more of. The man was always so serious. Seeing the door to the atrium was still closed, she reluctantly pinned the badge to her robe and they were able to proceed.

"No guards?" Steve peered around the cavernous atrium, as empty and quiet as a mausoleum.

"I'm pretty sure there were intent wards poking at us in the anteroom. They know we don't mean harm or they would have sounded the alarm and trapped us back there. They might be new security protocols I'm not aware of though."

They walked all the way down to level 9, Hermione refusing to use the stubborn elevator at night since it had acquired a personality of its own while she had been working here. She found herself where she'd last been, but hidden beneath a sheet in her locked office as if she was an ugly painting no one wants to see. It really was the image of her on that fateful day, but it lacked any life despite the few seconds of movement where her face morphed from surprise to terror, but there wasn't even a spark of magic to it. She guessed the resemblance had been enough to give anyone pause though.

"Weird." Steve commented as he walked around the image of her. "You sure you won't be killing yourself if you destroy it?"

"Not a chance. It's not me, just an image, an imprint of me in time, like those waving pictures in the newspaper."

Steve nodded and stepped back when she wielded her wands. Hermione cast a shield in front of them with her mundane wand and a bombarda with the deathstick. Unfortunately, the explosive spell rebounded on her shield, then on the stone wall which was thankfully reinforced so it held strong despite the singed mark left behind.

"I thought your wand was super powerful?"

"I need to find the right spell."

Everything she tried failed: Finite incantatem, banishing, vanishing. Arresto momentum did slow her image, made it flicker, and they could see then it was just an image. She knew she was on the right track but before she could think more on it, a squad of aurors burst into the room.

"Bloody hell!"

The familiarity of the voice and exclamation made her freeze. Sure enough, Ron stood there, mouth agape, his freckles standing out against his pale skin.

"Get away from her, you vulture!" Harry snarled right before he sent a stunner she easily blocked.

Others were muttering, unsure at the sight of her in her Grim appearance.

"Hello," she said sheepishly. "If you could just give me a second-"

Harry sent another stunner, and another.

"Harry James Potter, for once in your life, could you just listen before you-"

Another stunner. Hermione dodged with a sigh of defeat.

"Harry, mate, maybe you should listen." Ron said as he put a hand on his shoulder.

Harry relented, but he was more of a Slytherin than he let on so she stayed on her guard lest he try to stun her by surprise. Hermione stood there with a full auror squad facing her as well as her two best friends, wondering where Steve was but glad he had stayed hidden because she did not need the added complication right then.

"So that is just an image. It's pretty obvious if you look closely enough. Honestly, what do they teach Unspeakables nowadays?"

"So where's Hermione?"

"I am Hermione."

Hermione avoided another stunner from Harry, but only because Steve pulled her out of the way. So he'd been at her back the whole time, the sneak, and sure enough, she glimpsed his feet sticking out from the cloak and moved in front to hide him completely.

"I am Harry. It's me!"

"Prove it. Show yourself."

"I can't show you just yet. I look like this whenever I use magic, but ask me anything, something only Hermione would know."

"Death, the Grim Reaper, whatever you are, would know too. It doesn't prove anything."

"What if I have a witness? Someone trustworthy who can testify I'm Hermione when I'm not cursed to look like this."

"Depends on who your witness is, I suppose, because if it's the tooth fairy, you can pull the other one..."

"It's erm… Captain America. Seems he's quite popular around here."

Harry laughed, but it was short and scornful.

"The Muggle supersoldier? Sure, I hear he can't lie to save his life. You got him in your pocket or something?"

Steve showed himself, whisking the cloak off before shoving it in her hands and standing between her and Harry. She quickly hid it in her extendable pocket before anyone could get a closer look at it, and breathed out in relief when she noticed the Ministry's security anteroom had undone Steve's disguise or Harry might have thought she was indeed pulling his leg.

"It's true."

Harry craned his neck to look up at the mountain of a man then ran a hand through his hair, turning it into a knotted mess worse than it had already been. He dismissed his squad and all left except for Ron.

"Tell the story from the beginning. Don't you dare leave anything out, or I won't believe you."

As anticipated, Harry was angry about the cloak, saying he would have given it to her if only she'd _asked_ , because she had been like family."

 _Had been_. Past.

"I can give it back to you. Death betrayed me."

"Not sure I want Death on my case next, nor my descendants. What will happen to you if you don't have to hallows in your possession?"

Hermione shrugged.

"With any luck I won't be the hallow's master anymore."

"You know, I think death is right to want them back. They have no business being in this world, messing with human lives."

"He also wants my soul, shall I give it to him too?"

"No. No, of course not. But you always think of a way."

"I did try negotiating, but Death is a greedy bugger and he wouldn't hear me out." She looked at her frozen self, right before she had died. It was giving her the willies the more she looked at it. "Can I just get rid of that thing then?"

Harry nodded, and leaned against the wall with Ron, talking in hushed whispers between them. After a few more tries, Momento Mori worked, dissolving her image like a mirage even if the space of time loop remains. Hermione poked at this empty time-pocket to figure out how dangerous it might be to leave it there. Out of ideas, she threw the dead potted plant still lying on her former desk into it, then observed with rapt attention as it turned to dust from which emerged a seed, which germed, grew then withered, died and turned to dust. The cycle repeated itself, feeding the time loop and stabilizing the pocket of time so it did its thing.

"Okay, now I know you're our Hermione. Good job. The junior Unspeakables are going yo be thrilled about having a new toy."

He was smiling his lopsided grin, the one he used to give her before they ran away from the Death Eaters, before the war stole it away.

"Forgive me?" she asked.

"From what you said, you didn't have much of a choice except moving on to the next great adventure?"

"I wasn't ready to let go," she admitted with a nod.

"Nor should you be. I'll sort things out around here for your return so keep in touch, okay?"

Hermione bobbed her head eagerly and after some hesitation, gave him a quick, awkward hug. Ron joined in, and it was like they'd never been apart. Hermione told him where she could be reached and they parted ways.

"That went better than expected," Steve said once they were back on the Muggle street outside the Leaky Cauldron, where, of course, they drew a crowd because she was hard to miss as The Grim, making it even more obvious Steve was Captain America.

"Oops," she said, because at this rate, they would be crushed by their fans enthusiasm. "Didn't think there would be so many people out here at this hour."

Except the Muggle world had gone on without her and this street might be a trendy place now for all she knew. Without thinking twice about it, she grabbed Steve and apparated them out of that deathtrap. "HUGGED TO DEATH" was not an epitaph she wanted on either of their tombstones.


	7. Chapter 7: Comrades

Steve wobbled on his feet when they reappeared out of the teleportation. It wasn't as bad as the long distance one, but it was a close thing for him to remain upright, even more so in order to not fall over Hermione, or he would no doubt crush all her bones. Given she was still in her Grim form, with a very apparent skeleton, that would not be a pretty sight.  
"So… that went better than expected," Hermione said with a nervous chuckle. "I'm glad you were there. I'm not sure Harry would have listened to me otherwise. He's got a bit of a temper on him, so he usually curses first and asks questions later."  
Steve nodded. He'd known a lot of guys like that in the army. Hotheads, they called them back then, although he'd have to check the meaning of that one nowadays. They weren't a bad sort, and usually got angry for a good reason, but he still thought they shouldn't hold positions of power over others. That could easily mead to abuse. It wasn't his place to say though, especially because he didn't know her friend, so he held his tongue on the matter.  
"I'm glad you were able to patch things up with your friends. You did what you set out to do, so what are your plans now?"  
"My conscious is a whole lot lighter, but as long as I'm cursed, there isn't a lot I can do. Not to mention I still owe Fury for taking me in… I guess my plans don't amount to much for now. So it's your turn."  
"My turn? What do you mean?"  
"Come on, I saw the look on your face when I mentioned Europe. Surely there's something you want to do, even if it's just sightseeing, I'm game."  
Steve looked around him with the belated realization that once more, he didn't have a clue where he was. It was a beautiful hilltop with a dark lake in the distance and a crumbling castle up the slope behind them.  
"Where is this?"  
"Scotland. That's my former school up there. It used to be my go-to place for safety, so when we were mobbed outside the Leaky Cauldron…"  
She pointed towards the ruins. Surely she meant in that direction and not in that derelict place itself. His look of confusion must have shown because she apologized, explaining about charms, illusions, wards and that muggle-repelling thing that he still found so offensive. He waved off her babbling. Seeing a skeleton gesticulate because it was flustered was as strange as it was comical, so he was hard pressed not to laugh at her.  
"I was thinking we could go visit Jacques in France. I got Jarvis to track him down for me. He's old, mind. He might not even remember me, but he was a huge fan of yours and I think he might still have your jewellery."  
"My jewellery?"  
"Those you exchanged for food at the farms. We tried tracking you down, you know? Whenever we heard a rumour of the Snow Maiden, we went out of our way to catch up to you, but we were always too late. We collected what you left behind though, exchanged it for money, more food, or even a rifle once. That farmer had his taken by the nazis so we were happy to oblige. One of them didn't want to trade though. She was afraid of losing your blessing…" Steve trailed off. Now that he knew about magic and what she could do, he was starting to connect the dots. "Oh, you didn't just exchange food for gold, did you?"  
Her dark eye sockets looked down at her bony feet. He wished she would just be herself sometimes, with a human face, just so he could see her emotions. She was hard to read as the Grim, but he would bet his shield she was blushing right now.  
"Just little things," she admitted. "Repairing a roof, strengthening a fence… That sort of thing. I didn't think anyone would notice. It wasn't much."  
For poor farmers, that might have been a lot. Hermione still managed to surprise him, even when he thought he finally got a grasp of her.  
"No, that was kind of you. So what do you say? Fancy visiting Jacques?"  
"Was he the French guy on the tank?"  
"Yes," Steve replied with a pleased smile, about to tell her he was surprised she remembered when he recalled that just like him, it hadn't been that long ago for her.  
"He won't recognized me like this. I might scare him, especially if he's old and superstitious."  
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that." And Jacques was as superstitious as they came. "We can wait until the curse wears off and then knock at his door?"  
"Sounds like a plan. Hold on tight," she said, his only warning before he was squeezed through space once more.

Hermione squirmed against him when they made it back to solid ground and he saw he was, in fact, holding tight. A bit too much given she was trying to escape his grasp, but the proximity seemed to have made the trip easier on him, so he wasn't exactly sorry, even if he apologized as he let her go.  
"Did I hurt you?"  
"No, no. It's fine," she assured him but sounded breathless, and now he truly was afraid he had hurt her.  
The bones he could see looked whole however, and now that he thought about it, she hadn't felt bony in his arms, but squishy and warm. He didn't like that that curse of hers was playing tricks on his mind, so he promised himself to help her get rid of it if he could.  
A car honked at them, followed by a few choice words he had heard often enough from Jacques to know they weren't polite. Steve flipped him the bird, because he wasn't as wholesome as everyone liked to think he was, and this guy was being an ass. He did get them off the middle of the road however, guiding Hermione to the sidewalk like a dame, forgetting for once her Grim façade which always put him ill at ease.  
"Paris?" he asked, taking in the old, tall, regal looking buildings and the cobbled streets. It had to be an old part of the city because even in his time, Paris had looked more modern than this.  
"Yes. From here, we can get to anywhere in France in a few hours. It'll give me time to change back, but first I'm just going to-" she reached into her bag, her arm disappearing to the elbow before she retrieved a coat.  
"Cold?" he asked in confusion.  
She smirked at him, then changed the coat into a more familiar one: very white and long, with a large furry hood. That done, she put it back in the bag in which it shouldn't logically be able to fit. That too hurt his brain. Illusions were a pain.  
"Wouldn't want to disappoint a fan," she finally explained.  
Steve could have hugged her then, but he feared she might still be smarting from manhandling her earlier. He couldn't wait to see Jacques' face though. Not knowing what to say that wouldn't make him sound like a bleeding heart, or a pussy as Clint called him, Steve retrieved Jacques' address from his pocket and showed it to her.  
"Provence? Well, that'll take us a few hours, but we can take a TGV all the way down. Ever ridden one?"  
Steve shook his head, not sure what she was talking about apart from a mode of transportation."  
A train, as it turned out, but faster than any he'd ridden before. Faster even than the one Bucky had fallen from. His mood soured instantly at the thought and he pretended to sleep for a while, not wanting to inflict his brooding on Hermione.  
She had been drawing attention from the other travellers, and him by extension, but there was one thing to be said about the French: they weren't half as invasive as his fellow Americans or the Brits had been. They got curious glances mostly, and a couple of people went as far as snapping a discreet shot of them from afar, but that was about it. Hermione fell asleep halfway through the trip, then returned to her normal, human appearance, her face softer in her slumber than he had ever seen it before. She seemed at peace now that she had patched things up with her friends and been forgiven. He wished he could have that too. Going to see Jacques was one step in that direction, but most of the others had passed on already and Bucky…  
Steve shook his head, not wanting to go down that path yet again, and he waited until they were nearly at their destination to nudge Hermione awake.

"How do I look?" Hermione asked in her Snow Maiden costume, looking nervous, which was cute, considering.  
"Very-" he cut himself off. He couldn't say cute even if he had just been thinking it or she might take it the wrong way. "Good. Just like you used to. How do I look?" he asked back, trying to lighten the mood, but she blushed and stammered something he couldn't make out the meaning of even if it sounded positive on the whole.  
Unsettled, Steve rapped sharply at the door, a young woman opening with a quizzical expression that soon turned into wide eyed disbelief as she stared between him and Hermione, but she did usher them in in the end.  
"Oh, he vill be zo zo happy!" she said in broken English, the accent heavy as it was with all French folk speaking a foreign language.  
She pushed them with enthusiasm towards the living room, and there he sat, his old friend, in his usual breeches and cotton shirt. His hair all but gone and his moustache peppered with grey, his face wrinkled with deep laugh lines, but most definitely him.  
"Capitaine," he said as if he's been expecting him. "And ze lovely Snow Maiden. I knew I vould see you again vhen my time come."  
Hermione flinched and he saw her checking her hand as if to make sure she had not reverted back to her Grim Reaper appearance.  
"Don't be an ass, Jacques. You'll bury us all yet."  
Jacques laughed and invited them to sit by pointing his cane at two chairs facing his. The young woman reappeared with a tray of dark coffee and pastries before leaving once more with a wide grin.  
"Took your time to visit a old man."  
"Got busy. Unfreezing, catching up with the world, fighting aliens and wannabee gods, the usual. What's your excuse?"  
Jacques chuckled again.  
"I vill eat my cane before I set foot in your land of savages. You know zat. But I forgive you because you bring the Snow Maiden. Ve know you speak now, mademoiselle, do not be shy."  
Hermione smiled and apologized, explaining why she couldn't speak at the time.  
"But you were a real gentleman from the start, Jacques, even more so than the Captain here."  
Steve winced at the memory of the way he had tackled her to the ground when she had tried to run away from them, or how he hadn't accounted for her short stature, dragging her around on her toes as he led her back to the tank. Not his finest moments.  
Jacques gave him a smug look then chattered with them about the end of the war, about the Howling Commando, the legend of the Snow Maiden and his life after everyone had gone their own way.  
"All ze village celebrated vhen you ver found in ze ice, Capitaine. Ve follow your exploits on ze television. You are still very beloved in France and Europe. Have streets with your name, you know?"  
Steve felt his cheeks warm. It was strange, after all these years, to be remembered as he was.  
"Ah, do not fret, Capitaine. I do, too. More than you even, in zese parts."  
Steve chuckled. Jacques hadn't changed after all this time, always ready for a good laugh or ribbing. He then directed Hermione towards a glass paneled shelving case behind them. Steve followed her, although he had a pretty good idea what that was about, so he wasn't surprised to see her jewelry laid out on satin cushions. He was, however, not expecting to see the picture he had drawn of her after Jacques had nagged him for it for a full two weeks after her mysterious escape. It was tastefully framed and had been carefully looked after if he could believe the pristine state it was in. He'd had to draw her from memory, but Steve was satisfied to see he had gotten a good likeness, although he now knew her to have a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her lips were fuller than what he has sketched out. Next was a children's book about her, the cover embossed with silver snowflakes, and on the bottom shelf lay several newspaper clippings about sightings of her. It was a small collection, but as complete as it could be for such an elusive character, and absolutely unique.  
The young woman who ran the house coughed politely behind them. She had helped Jacques sneak up on them while they admired his collection. Steve couldn't help the pang of sorrow at seeing him look so frail and looking smaller than in his memories, but he quickly schooled his features and pointed at the camera the other woman was holding.  
"Shall I take you with the ladies?" he asked.  
"Idiot," Jacques replied fondly à la Française, taking another step forward to secure a spot between him and Hermione.  
They put their arms around each other like old comrades, like no time had passed at all, and Steve wished so much it had been so, but he grinned at the camera. The others too. It was a really good picture. 


End file.
